


Take a Chance (On Me)

by Ook



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternative Universe- Modern, Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, Kidnapping, M/M, Past Abuse, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ook/pseuds/Ook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another kink meme response.</p><p>In which Charles, terrorised by his abusive ex, takes his young son to a small town in America, where they both settle down and make friends with their neighbours. Particularly the town mechanic, Erik, and his foster son, Alex. Requester stated they wanted to "drown in H/C. "</p><p>Brace yourselves!</p><p>I don't write what I know. I write what I <i>like.</i> Sorry about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This should not be taken to be representative of abusive relationships or the psychological toll they take on the survivors. Obviously.
> 
> It does have a past abusive relationship and abuser 's behaviour as part of its plot. I've tried to be respectful of that; if you feel there's something I could or should have handled differently in a fan fic, please let me know.
> 
> I will warn for any triggers that come up, as and when they do.

Warnings: References to a previous abusive relationship, domestic violence (mostly off screen) and the ensuing trauma. Other warnings as subject matters present themselves.

 

Introduction

Charles yawned. Driving a strange vehicle all night on little more than coffee and fumes hadn’t been the easiest or most restful of activities, even if it brought Charles and his son to their new home in time to spend the day moving in. He was exhausted, and there was a demanding day ahead.

Charles looked over at David. He felt a rush of familiar wonder and tenderness at the sight of his child’s face, even sticky and marked with the remnants of his supper from the night before. At least it was only dirt. Dirt washed away. Bruises and bad memories didn’t.

David was still asleep. Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he brought the moving van to a gentle stop, and the child didn’t wake. If he could just get a chance to look round the house, maybe start a list of what was needed, before David woke up, then he could get going on moving in much more easily.

Not that he had a huge amount to unload. Very little in the way of furniture or crockery had managed to make it onto the van. Charles hoped there was a mall somewhere nearby. He wondered if he dared hope for an IKEA. He’d have to ask someone, someone who seemed safe, later.

They’d had to leave so much behind; in the rush to get away safely. Still, over the weeks before he put his daring plan into action, Charles had managed to keep most of David’s things packed away at work; and his work office had held most of his precious books, so they were not completely bereft.

The realtor had promised the kitchen would be useable, and he’d done a deal with the previous owner which led to Charles paying a little extra and keeping some of the furniture they hadn’t wanted. Charles was under no illusion as to what the quality of this stuff was likely to be, but he hoped it would be enough to be going on with.

Charles flicked a glance up and down the street. He spotted several strangers, but forced himself to relax. Everyone would be a stranger here at first. That was the whole point of moving, after all. Charles hoped they could get away from his past, before it hurt David any further. He rubbed his black eye very gently, and did not think of Jason.

Charles ticked off the people he saw out on the street, cautiously. Newspaper boy; car, car, girl dog walker, and one other man; doing something oily to a car. The strange man was tall, and lean, and his shoulders looked muscular, but at this distance, Charles felt safe enough to unlock the front door of the house and go in


	2. Chapter 2

Erik Lensherr watched the arrival of the battered rental van with narrowed eyes. It seemed almost too small to be a removals van, and yet it was stopping at the only empty house on the street. Hmm. He hoped no one disreputable was thinking of moving into Erik’s street.

Erik finished wiping the oil from his hands with a rag, and bent over the car engine as the door of the van opened, to reveal a slight enough young man in sloppy jeans and an over large shirt. He appeared to have a black eye. Nothing reassuring there. Erik grunted to himself. The neighbourhood already had its fair share of suspicious characters.

And speaking of suspicious characters…  
“Alex!” He yelled into his own house. There was silence. “ALEX!!”  
“What?” The response came from the kitchen. Erik nodded to himself in satisfaction.  
“If you are not at the door in five minutes, you’re walking to school!”  
“Fuck that, I have a car of my own!” came the response. Erik frowned.

“And I have the spark plugs to it. Move!” Silence again. Down the street, the back door of the van stood open. Erik squinted, but he couldn’t see the contents clearly. Damn. The young man fumbled with the lock at the door, and disappeared inside the cavernous bulk of the empty house.

Definitely moving in. Still, the “for sale” sign was still in the front yard, so perhaps the man was only renting. He could always hope. Erik shrugged, mentally. He rarely went to the effort of hoping. Mostly it was a waste of time.  
Precisely four minutes and thirty two seconds after he had yelled, Alex appeared on the front steps, muttering. Erik looked him over. Hmm. Jeans and sweatshirt; but clean and unworn. Good enough. Alex shuffled his feet. He knew what came next.

“Done your homework?” Erik asked, eventually.  
“Yes.” Alex muttered to his shoes.  
“Revised for any tests?” Erik pressed on. Alex didn’t roll his eyes; he knew better than to do that now. The last time he’d done that, Erik had not only walked him to school, he’d carried out his usual inquisition in full sight of everyone at the school, including Alex’s friends. And Hank.

“Yes.” Alex gritted out  
“Got your brother’s lunch money?” Erik continued with his ritual catechism.  
“They won’t let me see him, you know, it’s-“ Alex said, sulkily.  
“You give it to his teacher.” Erik continued, implacably. “He’s your brother, and we will get him here eventually.” He gave a sharp smile. 

Alex fought back the instinctive flinch the sight of Erik’s teeth produced in just about everybody. Erik was an asshole, but he wasn’t an abusive one. Alex knew that. He’d been Alex’s foster dad for three years, and he was reliable, as no other adult had been since his parents had died. 

The first time Alex had flinched away from him, Erik’d simply told him that he was never going to hit him, or anything else. And he hadn’t. Ever, even though Alex had put him through a certain amount of shit when they’d first been thrown together by the system, and later.

Erik held out the precious sparkplugs. Alex snatched at them, but Erik moved them out of his reach. “Crash or speed and you will regret it for the rest of your life.” Then again, Erik never needed physical force to convey a sense of absolute threat. “Ok. Go on, the car’s ready for you.”

Alex took the spark plugs and lifted the hood of the car. He hated how Erik treated him like a kid. Even if it was kinda reassuring at the same time. Erik was an asshole, but he took care of shit like Alex mattered to him, and without any of the crap that his previous foster parents had dealt out.


	3. Chapter 3

The house was liveable in. Just barely, Charles decided. There were two beds that were not actually death traps, and a table and some folding chairs that could actually stand up against normal Earth gravity. The kitchen was clean-ish, and contained a working stove, a mostly functioning refrigerator and a lot of empty cupboards. The rest was just junk, and dust. _So much dust._ Charles found himself wishing briefly he’d been able to pack their roombas; but, like so much else, he hadn’t been able to justify the amount of space they would take up in the van. Ah well. He had found room for a broom. And he would look at his maps and locate the nearest mall this afternoon

The house was not large, to Charles’s eyes, but he knew that most houses, compared to the one in which he had spent his bleak childhood, were not large. This one had three bedrooms, and enough rooms on the ground floor, that eventually Charles hoped he would be able to have a study again, separate from David’s playroom. He looked at the backyard, and flinched. Surely there were Triffids out there, if not actual aliens. The yard was overrun with vines and weeds, but beneath the wild greenery, Charles thought, the land had what the gardener back at Westchester would call “good bones” He hoped.  
“Nothing some shears and possibly some defoliant can’t fix” he murmured to himself, as he wandered. "Maybe a flame thrower."

The master bedroom was at the front of the house, with windows on to the street. Charles peered out, absently noting a need for more curtains. The dog walker was out of sight. The tall man was speaking to a blond teenager- his son? The boy began to tinker with the car, and the man watched, arms folded. A car went by, setting the removal van to swaying in its exhaust. Yes, the van. The van in which David was currently sleeping. The van which had to go back to the rental company asap. Although that would mean Charles had no car, at least until he could hire or buy another without the possibility of Jason tracing them through it. Charles stood still for a moment, before he shook himself and went in search of his son.

“Dusty.” Was David’s first comment, on entering. Charles winced.  
“Yes, but we can clean it.” He said, brightly. David eyes him, curiously.  
“I like dusty.” David said, happily. And sneezed. He squatted and began to draw with his fingers in the dirt. 

Charles left him to it. He went back and forth from the van with boxes and chairs and boxes and rugs and boxes. Charles felt, very strongly, that there were too many boxes in his life. David abandoned his artwork in favour of exploring the jungle out back. Charles tried to remember where the camomile lotion was. He was fairly sure some of that growth was poison ivy, not that David appeared to care.

David came back inside, grey and green with dirt, as Charles was hauling the last box into the house. Charles kicked the front door shut behind him, and flopped onto the filthy floor, groaning with relief as his spine began to uncompress at last. He stared up at the cobwebby ceiling. He heard a tap running. David sat by his father’s head, and offered him a glass of water.  
“Thanks, Davy-gravy.” He said gratefully. He felt the flash of amusement from his son at the use of his old nick-name, and smiled back. “Give me a minute and we can go look for the mall, ok?”

“Ok.” There was silence for a moment. Charles breathed, and felt his muscles relax a little more. He sipped from the glass.  
“Find anything exciting in the garden?” he said, eventually.  
“I found a _frog._ ” This was clearly the most wonderful discovery David had ever made.  
“Ah.” Charles smiled.

“Daddy, can we stay here?”  
“We are staying here, this is our house.” Charles said, gently.  
“I know, but can we stay here properly? Like, for a really long time, and no going away again? Please?” David begged. Charles felt his heart sink. How could he explain? he wanted somewhere David could be _safe._ Even if the boy hated change and strangers, staying out of Jason's reach was safer than putting down roots.

At that moment, the doorbell went, with an oddly wavering, watery sound.

*********************************************************************

 

Charles opened the door to a find a tall, faintly dangerous man on his doorstep. Of course, at the moment, most people seemed faintly dangerous to Charles. He checked David’s reaction to be sure nothing untoward was leaking through his shields to frighten his son, squared his shoulders and said:  
“Hello?”  
The faintly dangerous man responded by taking off his sunglasses and sticking an oil marked hand in his direction. Charles put his own out to meet it, cautiously.

“Just moving in?” he said, over a firm- but not painful- handshake.  
“Yes, I-“ Charles began. He was cut off as the tall man spoke, revealing a beautiful set of teeth as he did so.  
“I’m Erik.” He said, smiling like an escapee from the aquarium. His eyes were grey.  
“Charles. Pleased to meet you, Erik.” Charles lied, politely. Warily, David leant out from behind his father to stare up- and further up- at their visitor. Erik looked down at him and favoured the small boy with a wink. David looked at him, steadily.

Erik blinked first. Charles hid a small feeling of triumph.  
“I’m afraid I haven’t managed to locate the kettle, so I can’t offer you any refreshments yet, but-“ Erik waved a dismissive hand.  
“That’s ok. I remember moving in myself. Came to see if that’s what you were doing.”  
“Ah.” There was a brief pause and then Erik seemed to remember his original intent.  
“I live down the street. Saw your van.” He said, briskly. Charles blinked.  
“Yes, you were talking to a blond boy-“

“Alex. My son. He’s partly why I came over.” Erik said, and Charles felt even more wary.  
“Oh?” he said, blandly.  
“He runs a gardening service; most summers, and I know the old lady who lived here didn’t use him, or anyone.” Erik seemed slightly awkward, admitting that.  
“Have you seen out back? It’s like a jungle!” David said, enthusiastically. Both the adults smiled. Charles was surprised to see David take to a strange man so readily; he hoped his son hadn’t resorted to untoward means to check up on Erik. 

Briefly Charles wished he could still do the same with his telepathy. He put the memory aside and looked up at Erik again. He seemed reasonably pleasant.  
“Well, that’s certainly good to know. I’ll be wanting to take the garden in hand at some point. But before then, I’ll need a hand with furniture assembly and the like. Just as soon as I find the mall." Charles ran a hand through his hair. 

“I can certainly point you that way myself,” Erik said, with another shark like smile. “And Alex is always willing to lend a hand, when I tell him.”  
“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Charles said. He felt relieved to think that he might be able to locate shelves and a wardrobe or two before the van went back to the rental company.  
“Now?” Erik prodded. Charles felt his shoulders tense at the possibility he might be getting impatient with them. He rushed into speech.  
“Well, I suppose so- David? Are you ready to go?”  
“Can we have lunch there?” David said, hopefully. 

Erik smiled again.  
“Tell you what,” he said, directly to David “I’ll draw you a map to the best restaurant in town, as well as the mall, if your Dad agrees?” Charles nodded.  
“Do they do _good_ milkshakes?” David demanded, sternly. Erik nodded. Solemnly.  
Erik whipped a notepad out of his pocket and proceeded to sketch several small maps. “One for the mall- there’s a tiny IKEA just opened; they don’t have all that much but they’ll order stuff in for you. One for Ruth’s Foods. And this is the town.” 

“Is there a garage in town at all?” Charles asked, abruptly.  
“Yup; do you need a mechanic?” Erik gave him a sharp glance, and Charles felt himself flush. He wasn't sure why.  
“Well, it’s just I need a car- a _cheap_ car; after the van goes back to the rental place.” Erik smiled toothily again.  
“I think I can _definitely_ help you there.”

**************************************************

As Erik walked back to the car he was tinkering with, he considered his new neighbours thoughtfully. Charles was rail thin- but once Tante Ruth got her hands on him, that would doubtless end soon enough- and far too nervous for Erik’s peace of mind. He wondered about drugs, and addictions, or other problems. This Charles’s nervousness, his thinness, and weariness were definitely flickering a warning light on Erik’s mental dashboard. Mostly because of the child involved. Any idiot could ruin themselves with drugs if they wanted to, in Erik’s book. But one had absolute responsibility to protect one’s children and dependants.

Still, the man was moving house, always stressful. Erik raised the hood of the car. It might be no more than that. Tante Ruth had told him he was inclined to morbidity; to placing the worst possible interpretation on events. Erik thought that his mechanic’s eye was probably part of it. A small patch or rust, a strange knocking noise in a car could be harbingers of doom, and Erik responded to most of life as if it had been a car engine. Thoughts on his new neighbour’s nerves led Erik to speculate on his black eye. He wondered how the young man had obtained it. He doubted it was in a fight, somehow. Perhaps something had fallen on him while he was packing up, or he’d walked into a door. Mentally, Erik shrugged. He doubted it would matter, once the bruise had faded.

It wasn’t as if it had been severe enough to hurt the younger man’s looks, after all. The bright blue eyes and the red, red lips had not been overshadowed by Charles’s black eye. His face and the rest of him were pretty enough to distract from that. The boy had the same blue eyes- minus bruises- as his father. Idly, Erik wondered about the child’s mother. The boy himself was interesting. Erik could almost swear he had felt someone brushing up against his thoughts the way Emma did, from time to time. He doubted it had been the father, somehow. Surely he would have become less skittery after reading a lack of threatening intention behind in Erik’s curiosity. That left the child.

A child telepath had a tough time of it (again, according to Emma), unless the parents knew about the talent, and were willing to learn to shield and open themselves as necessary. Erik’s lips thinned. He had no patience with people who feared their children, or society’s opinion of what their children could do. Still, he had no evidence, other than this Charles’s general skittishness, that he was one of those parents. One (well, two) of those parents had been the reason he had agreed to foster Alex, after all. Erik reached for the toolkit with his powers, and bent over the engine again. The screwdriver hit his hand with a bit more force than he intended. He swore, and counted to ten, first in English, and then in German. His temper was not of the best, right now.

Because of idiot foster parents, and their idiot fears of mutants (and, to some extent, the fact that Alex could be a little shit at times) Alex had bounced between group homes and indifferent carers for years before Erik had been burdened with him. The young mutant had grown very wary, both of his powers and other people, before Erik had taken him on. As if that wasn’t enough, the foster carers who took his little brother had made it very clear they had no intention of letting their precious Scotty being led astray by his troubled mutant older brother. Scott barely even saw Alex, even though the little boy remained desperately fond of his sole living family member.

Erik decided that if it looked like this David was suffering, then he’d risk wading through the mess of Social Services and Child Protection again. Now Moira worked there, it wasn’t the slow turgid hell it had been at first, but still. It would not be fun. However, Erik was prepared to do almost anything to protect a fellow mutant.


	4. Chapter 4

Alex hummed as he came through the door. The house was silent- signs Erik was back at the garage still- which meant Alex was legitimately able to eat more of Tante Ruth’s delicious left over pastries, as supper would delayed until the sharkmiester got home. Still, he’d better leave some of the peach tarts for Erik. He might just drop in to Ruth’s Foods on the way back, to see if Alex was doing his homework there with Hank. And Ruth would doubtless alert him to Alex’s visit, meaning Erik would be expecting pastries when he got home. So there had better actually be some, or there would be trouble. Not necessarily sparkplug level, but trouble.

It had seemed like a good idea. But Hank was an odd duck, who refused to “do his homework” with Alex in public. He preferred studying. Weird. Still, Alex had known what he was getting himself into when he had first pursued the mad-scientist-to-be, he could hardly complain about his boyfriend’s quirks _now._ And speaking of homework, there was a test to be revising for, even though the science teacher who had set it had left. Alex breathed a private sigh of relief over that. Hank might pine over Dr Richard’s notes and non-syllabus experiments, but Alex just wanted to get reasonable grades and keep Erik off his back. 

Dr Richards was entirely fascinated by _SCIENCE,_ to the point where most students speculated on whether his wife had had to dress up as a petri dish at any point in their relationship; but he was a really shitty teacher. He mumbled, was vague, and dull. That could have been borne with, but he also had no idea of most of his student’s level of comprehension. At least that had given Alex a good excuse to talk to Hank, and keep talking to the shy nerd, without sacrificing his own reputation as a badass troublemaker. Much. The McCoys were all good people; they’d talked of taking Alex in when the last set of foster carers but one had crapped out on him. Alex hadn’t been keen, though. He didn’t want Hank to be his _brother._

Alex already had one of those, even if he hardly ever got to speak or even see Scotty these days. Mrs Stryker had glared at Alex when he’d turned up at Scotty’s Little League game, as if Alex had insulted her or threatened her or something. He just wanted to see his little brother, for god’s sake, why didn’t the old bitch understand that? But, no, it was all “Bad influence this” and “poor role model that” and Alex had to watch Scott, from a distance, get quieter and sadder and smaller, somehow. He wore the Stryker’s neat clothes neatly, just like their dear, dead son Todd had done, he took brown bag lunches to school, just like Todd and went in for football, just like… blah, blah, blah.

Alex’s chest felt tight and hot. He recognised the warning signs, now. He took a deep breath. He abandoned the pastries on the side and went back out to the front yard, to kick at stones and stare hopelessly at his car’s paint job some more. Sean had saidm it was a good idea at the time, but who listened to Sean? Only Alex and Hank, which was why Alex was stuck with a stupid blue and yellow car.

There was a little kid on the street, about Scott’s age. Alex narrowed his eyes as the kid kicked a stone along the kerb, slowly. He was too young to be out alone; and Alex didn’t recognise him as one of the neighbours. A glance up and down the street revealed no parent or babysitter in sight. Not good. Causally, Alex walked up the street towards the kid, who stopped kicking his stone to give Alex a long look. He was a small kid, grubby and bright eyed. Alex noted that the clothes were dirty, but not torn or ragged Alex gave him a smile and said  
“Hey.” The kid stared for a bit longer and then replied  
“Hi.”

“You live round here?” Alex said. He hoped he didn’t come over as creepy. He didn’t normally walk up to strange kids and talk to them, but there was something about this kid- his age, his size, maybe, that made Alex want to know he was ok. Maybe it was because he reminded him of Scott. He tried to think about how he’d talk to his brother, not patronising or complicated. Just straight forwards. Simple couple of questions ought to be ok, right?  
“Just today.” The kid jerked a grimy thumb at the house that had been empty as long as Alex had been at Erik’s place. Must have just moved in.  
“Me too.” Alex jerked his own thumb at Erik’s house. “I live there. I’m Alex, by the way.”

“I’m David. Where’s your brother?” the kid asked. Alex flinched.  
“I… he lives with his foster parents.” He didn’t want to think about that. Alex hoped the kid wasn’t going to ask him who he lived with. “How did you… I mean, what about your parents, kid? Do they know where you are?”  
“Mom’s gone. Daddy looks after us now.” The kid said, calmly. Almost too calmly. “Daddy’s sleeping.”  
“Sleeping, huh? Did you let him know where you were going before he fell asleep?” Alex wondered how it had come to this. If any of the guys at school- except maybe Hank- saw him trying to play babysitter, they’d be howling with laughter. But a kid was a kid, and Alex didn’t want any of the things that had happened to him to happen to anyone else.

David stared at Alex, or maybe through him, again for a minute. Then he smiled. “No. But I wasn’t going out of the street! I promise! I was just looking for my frog.”  
“Your frog?” God, Alex hoped the kid hadn’t lost a pet. The boy nodded shyly and said  
“Yeah. I found him in the yard.” Alex breathed a sigh of relief. “But he went away.”  
“Your frog... hopped it?” The little boy giggled at the bad pun. Alex smiled. “Huh. Maybe you should go check on your dad? If he’s asleep you could leave him a note.” The he was stuck by a sudden panic. Crap. Maybe the kid couldn’t write yet. It had taken Alex a long time- “I can help. With the note.”

“Yeah, ok.” David said. He held out a hand to Alex. Surprised, Alex took it. David’s fingers felt very fragile, like birds’ bones or something. David tugged, and Alex followed him, obediently. “You gotta be quiet when we go in. Daddy doesn’t sleep good, and he wakes up funny.”  
Alex felt something twist in his gut. He hoped that David was just phrasing things badly. Because Alex was suddenly remembering Uncle Nat, who had needed “a little pick me up” almost every hour, and had lashed out at Alex if he was close enough whenever he woke up with a hangover- which was always. Moira had got him out of that situation- who would look after David?

\------------------------

 

Mr Xavier “Call me Charles” was nothing like Uncle Nat, Alex thought, with relief. He didn’t know what David meant by waking funny, as the man was already awake and was just about to panic about the location of his – obviously loved- son, when David appeared, dragging Alex with him. No booze involved.  
“Call me Charles.” had a weird accent that made Alex think of Sherlock Holmes, and maybe villains in spy films, but otherwise was a perfectly ok dude. Small, blue eyes- maybe a bit twitchy, but he had obviously had a bit of a fright, waking up to find David gone.

Alex wasn’t normally good around strange adults. A lot of them seemed to think he was sullen, or perhaps considering the best way to rob/murder them, judging by their responses to him when they met. “Call me Charles” seemed to be different.  
Of course, it’s hard to be snotty and rude to a guy when (a) he’s returning your missing son and (b) you have a huge wad of cobwebs sticking to your forehead. Call me Charles seemed a nice enough guy, for an adult, just a bit frazzled from the stress of moving himself and his son alone.

“I understand you do a gardening service?” Charles said.  
“Ah, yeah. How did you?” Alex said. Damn, that was fast.   
“Your father told me?” Charles said quickly, nervous again.  
“My Dad?” Alex said, astonished.  
“He said his name was Erik and you were his son, I’m sorry, did I-“ Charles said hurriedly.   
“Oh! Yeah, Erik’s my foster dad. Sorry. I just, for a minute, it was really.”  
“I’m most terribly sorry.” Charles babbled at Alex. Huh. Alex thought he seemed almost too British to be real.

“Yeah, I do gardening stuff. Mostly lawns, or digging stuff up, or chopping it down. Nothing fancy, like planning or-“  
“Well, I don’t think the budget will stretch to fancy.” Charles said, more cheerfully. “But I think I’d like to find out if there is a garden under everything out back, for a start.” He smiled. “I might even go as far as considering growing some lawn.”  
Alex found himself wandering with Charles, to survey the frenzied jungle that was hiding in his back yard.   
“Wow.” He said, reverently. Charles smiled again.  
“It’s got frogs in it!” David said, happily. Alex and Charles exchanged the same look of amusement.

“I wonder if there’s a pond in there somewhere.” Charles mused.  
“More like the black lagoon, this thing is, is, I don’t know, really overgrown.” It was. The yard looked like a huge job. Alex tried to hide his delight. Maybe he could earn enough to start saving for a new paintjob for his dorky coloured car.  
“I’m sorry, normally at this point, I’d offer you tea, or, or coffee or something, while we talked about rates and quotes and, um, suitable financially responsible things, but unfortunately our kettle- and the cups- are still in a box somewhere.” Charles said, a little sheepishly.

Alex was struck by a brilliant, neighbourly idea. 

 

\---------------

 

Erik came home from the garage to find his sanctuary invaded. Not by any of Alex’s friends brave enough to actually willing come with ten feet of him, but by a small, scrawny Englishman and his smaller (though less scrawny) son. Who had quite clearly eaten at least some of the share of pastries Tante Ruth had promised she’d sent along with Alex. He repressed a growl. It wasn’t Alex’s fault- well, actually it was, but he seemed have started developing a sense of responsibility over his gardening service; instead of letting Erik do most of the marketing for it. He’d actually gone over to Charles’ place and they’d come back to Erik’s house to find a functioning kitchen.

“It’s really very kind of you- of Alex- to invite us over.” Charles said, slightly nervously. Erik grunted and shrugged. Alex wanted another client, although he wasn’t going to tell Charles that. Erik didn’t want the man to feel unwelcome; but he really had run out of the desire to talk very much earlier in the day. Now he needed a shower, and maybe a shave before he could pass for human again. Erik didn’t bother with shaving if he was just going in to work on other people’s cars. Oil and dirt streaked his jeans and his T-shirt. It was the end of a typical working day. Without asking, Alex handed him a coffee, and shoved him in the direction of the bathroom. He was used to Erik in his post work mode.

As Erik went upstairs he could hear Alex chattering away to the little boy- apparently his name was David- about cartoons. Huh. It was unlike Alex to be this helpful or interested in little kids; still, given that David apparently lived on their street now, perhaps he was hoping David could invite Scott to come play with him. Alex was smart like that.

Erik regretted his lack of words when he descended, fresh and clean from his shower, to find the Xaviers on the point of departing.   
“You’re not staying to dinner?” He said, slightly puzzled. Erik was fairly sure Alex had muttered something about dinner when he came in to find the boy chatting with Charles about physics, and David sprawled on his stomach watching cartoons.  
“Oh, well, I- Better not wear out our welcome too soon, hmm?” Charles said, rubbing his face distractedly, and wincing when his fingers touched the bruises there. Erik frowned a little. He didn’t like that black eye at all.  
“Oh, don’t worry about Erik.” Alex said, cheerily. “He’ll always tell you if you’re not wanted.” He beamed at Erik. Charles looked more flustered.

Erik fought the desire to rub his forehead, or to strangle Alex. David turned off the TV and came to stand by his father. His hand curled into Charles’ hand almost protectively. Charles took a shaky breath and tried to smile again.   
“Oh, no, I don’t want to be any trouble. Anyway, after those delicious pastries, it’ll be a while before dinner is required, really.” He smiled again.  
“You said we could have pizza tonight.” David said. “From a delivery place.” The little boy sounded quite calm and matter of fact. He wasn’t whining or pouting, which was unusual, in Erik’s mind. Charles started, and said, apologetically  
“Yes, you’re quite right there. I did say that.” He looked up at Erik. “I’m sorry, perhaps some other time?” David stared at Erik, steadily.

Erik nodded, mildly bemused as Charles edged out of his way and almost backed out of the house. Well. Charles Xavier was certainly skittish. But his child seemed happy enough, so Erik decided to leave well alone. He’d probably run into Charles from time to time in the future, now they lived on the same street.

“Dude.” Alex said, from behind him. “You have to stop scaring the handsome ones, or you are never going to get laid again.”  
“What?” Now Erik was confused.  
“We were getting on just fine; he was explaining by science test stuff, and then you came in and he just fled.”  
Erik opened his mouth to pour scorn on the idea that he was ever frightening unintentionally and heard himself say, instead “The man has a son, and I doubt he’s either gay or looking for a relationship.” He blinked. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Alex blinked, looking briefly stymied. 

“Could be bi. Could be gay and have adopted or something. Don’t be so twentieth century, dude.” Erik looked at him, and raised an eyebrow. Alex flushed. “I mean, don’t be so twentieth century, sir?” Erik decided to let it slide. He wasn’t going to speculate on a new neighbour’s sexuality. Not even one as handsome as Charles.


	5. Chapter 5

The woman behind the receptionist desk at the Middle School beamed at Charles and an unusually shy David. Charles strengthened his own mental shields, wishing, again, that he could make new places easier for his son to endure. David had had bad experiences at school before, and now he was wary every time they ended up somewhere new.  
“Hello, Mr Xavier. Is this David?” she said. The middle school receptionist didn’t call him Doctor, but Charles felt no need to correct her. Given how useful his academic qualifications had been in getting him out of trouble in the past, he didn’t feel like relying on them now, when so much was at stake.

“Yes, that’s us!” he said, heartily.  
“Hello, David. I’m Mrs Grey. I’m here to meet and talk to everyone who comes into this school” David nodded shyly and whispered  
“Hello.” Charles leapt into the silence that followed, eagerly.  
“I’ve come to discuss enrolling David at the School. I know it’s the middle of term, but-“  
“Well, we’re quite used to mid-term transfers, here. Got the procedure all set up. Do you have his transcripts?” Wordlessly, Charles handed them over.  
 _-See, David? They’re used to people like us. -_ Charles tried to make his projected “voice” reassuring.

 _-They won’t like me. -_ Inwardly, Charles winced. He could “hear” his son’s mental voice more clearly than any other persons’ in the world, and hearing the fear and resentment in it was painful to him. He responded calmly, trying to sound believably positive and encouraging.  
 _-You can’t know that yet.-_ David made no response.  
“How old are you, David?” Mrs Grey cut in. David responded automatically.  
 _-Eight. –_ Mrs Grey blinked, but didn’t appear startled. Or afraid. Charles tightened his grip on David’s hand.  
“Oh, are you a telepath?” Mrs Grey said, pleased. “So is my daughter; she goes to school here too.”

“How old is she? Are you a telepath, too?” David said, interested to hear of another mind reader. Charles felt the lightening of his son’s mood with relief.  
“She’s the same age as you, and no, I’m not.” Mrs Grey said, cheerfully. “You’ll be in her class, I expect.”  
“How come you’re not a telepath?” Mrs Grey looked faintly startled.  
“I’m just not, dear.”  
“Daddy is a telepath.” David said, helpfully.  
“Not a very strong one, I’m afraid.” Charles said, half ruefully, half reassuringly.

Mrs Grey’s eyes flicked to Charles, sharply. He nodded, and said nothing, awaiting her response. There was a pause as she evaluated him, and then she smiled. It was true, about Charles’s telepathy. Like the rest of him, it had never really recovered from Jason.  
“Well, it’s not always that way, dear. For example I have brown eyes, but my Jean has blue eyes, like yours.” She smiled again. Charles exhaled. No one was shrieking and running yet. He watched as Mrs Grey took David into a small side room, and set him up with a test workbook.

“If you’ll just sit there, Mr Xavier, I’ll see if the principal is ready to meet you. Would you like a coffee, tea, or water?”  
“Oh, nothing for me, thank you. I’m fine.” Charles said. He didn’t want to be any trouble, not at his son’s prospective school. Mrs Grey smiled at him, and returned to her desk.

\-----------------------

“Hey, Tante Ruth!” Alex slid behind the counter to give his aunt by fostering a hug that swept her off her feet. She slapped at him, fondly. Ruth had settled down near her only remaining family while Erik had been away from his hometown on carefully unspecified business. He’d been startled, on his return, to find his aunt as thoroughly rooted there as any small town old lady. Ruth’s Foods was the best Café/diner/deli in town now, and had been for years. Technically, seeing as she was Erik’s aunt, not Alex’s, she should have been a great aunt, but she had threatened both Alex and Erik with grievous absence of pastries if they referred to her age in any way, ever.

“Good afternoon, Ms-“  
“Henry McCoy, you know I am Tante Ruth to you perfectly well.” The gawky teenager shuffled his feet and flushed, mumbling. Tante Ruth smiled at him, warmly. Almost alone of all the youth in town, Hank seemed set on being polite at all times. She slipped another brownie on his plate and ignored his money, haughtily. He smiled. Alex had by this time found their coffee, so the two teens spread their textbooks over their favourite booth and settled in to some serious studying, well fuelled by Ruth’s pastries. Hank was worried he would fall behind in sciences, seeing at the school still hadn’t sorted out a permanent science teacher for them.

“I wish Dr Reed was still here.” Hank said, wistfully.  
“I don’t.” Alex said, firmly. “Anyway. He’s probably happier now his project’s got funding again.” Hank nodded, sadly, and turned back to his math.  
“I’m just worrying I’ll miss things.” Hank said. He bit his pencil.  
“You ought to see if the new guy on my street does any tutoring or something.” Alex said, chewing his last pastry. Hank waved frantically at the flutter of pastry crumbs escaping Alex’s mouth. Alex grinned.  
“Your Mr Xavier?” he said, eventually.  
“He’s not mine. Just- when I was talking to him, about gardening and stuff; we got onto my homework, and he seemed to know a lot of stuff about it.”

“Huh. Maybe.”  
The worked on in silence or quiet voiced discussion; till the coffee was gone, and the revision for the next test was either “Begun” according to Hank or “Covered.”, in Alex’s opinion, completely. Then they had to speculate on what next; more pastries (Alex’s vote) or something nutritious from Tante Ruth’s kitchen?  
“David!” Ruth called from behind her counter, as the bell on the door jingled. “How did your first day of school go? Hello, Charles.” Alex looked up, and poked Hank.  
“ok.” David said, in a small, tight voice, and rubbed his forehead. Charles seemed a little worried, but he smiled at her in greeting.

“Headache, sweetie?” Ruth said, gently. David and Charles both nodded, miserably. Ruth poured out two glasses of fresh lemonade, and steered them to the quietest corner in the café, away from the kitchens and the tills. Charles smiled at her rather wanly.  
“Too many people, I’m afraid.” He said, apologetically.  
“Mmm, and the first day’s always the hardest, isn’t it?”  
Ruth ran a hand over David’s head, and he closed his eyes, and smiled, absorbing her gentle concern happily.  
“Now. I find soup is often good for a headache.” She said. David opened his eyes.  
“And a melty sandwich?” he asked, hopefully.  
“That’s right. What shape will it be this time? David’s face lit up, and Charles smiled too.

“Can it be a dinosaur? Do you have a dinosaur sandwich cutter?”  
“Yes, indeed. Charles?”  
“Oh, soup for me too, please.” Charles said, quietly.  
“And a sandwich?” Ruth prodded. The man was much too thin. He looked away for a moment and then nodded, obediently as David.  
Smiling, Ruth walked away to complete the order.

 

Charles nibbled on his sandwich. It was proving a little difficult to eat, sticking in his throat. He took a long swallow of water and watched David rampage his toasted cheese dinosaur along the side of his soup bowl.  
“Hey, kiddo. Hey Mr… Charles.” Charles looked up to see the two lanky teens standing awkwardly by his booth.  
“Hello, Alex! Hello, um… Alex’s friend.” He said, brightly. Alex’s friend blushed and shuffled his feet. David looked up from his soup and said, reprovingly.  
“His name is Hank, not Bozo.” Charles blinked. Hank blinked. Alex did not blink.  
“Really. I’m terribly sorry, Hank-“ Charles began. Hank interrupted him.

“How did you know that?” Hank said, looking at David with such fascination, Charles felt a wave of alarm roll through him. Alex laid a hand on Hank’s arm.  
“Scott said.” David explained, briefly. He threatened his soup with the sandwich dinosaur again.  
“You in Scott’s class, kiddo?” Alex said hopefully.  
“Yes. I said I met you an he said to say he was ok.” David’s nose wrinkled doubtfully. “Why don’t they let you live together? Scott said it was ‘cos you were a mutant?” He looked anxious. Alex felt a bolt of shame and self disgust pass through him. 

He looked at Charles, waiting for panic, or fear, or anger at the revelation, but Charles only looked interested. This was not the usual reaction Alex got, but then, Charles didn’t know what he could do. Alex shifted his feet. Maybe he’d better-  
“Please, sit.” Charles urged both teens. Hank sat immediately- traitor- which meant Alex had to do the same. Stiffly, he sat next to David in the booth. Gravely, David showed him his dinosaur sandwich. Alex did his best to look impressed while inwardly freaking out.  
“What kind of dinosaur is that, David?” Alex asked, hoping to get away from the subject of mutation.  
“It’s a Dippy-docus.” David dunked the dinosaur in his soup, and bit off the tail.  
“Don’t you mean diplodocus?” Hank said, unable to stop himself. Alex frowned at him. 

Charles smiled.  
“No.” David said, serenely. “He’s a Dippydocus ‘cause I _dip_ him. In the soup. See?” He dipped the dinosaur again. “And Daddy likes mutants.” He patted Alex’s hand reassuringly, splattering soup and crumbs everywhere. Alex’s jaw dropped.  
“Hey, how-“ he started, weakly.  
“Cause _I’m_ one. A telepath.” David glanced up at his father and smiled. “It’s a secret, sort of.” Charles flushed. “Daddy is too.” David looked back at his soup  
“David-“ he started. “I. Um. Well.”

“You’re a mutant, too?” Alex asked eagerly, if quietly. This was great. Beside him, Hank shifted nervously. Alex threw him a reassuring glance. “What do you do? I…, well I kinda do explosions.” There was a pause. “It’s almost completely under control!” Hank groaned. Alex shot him another glare.  
“Oh, I’m a telepath, too. Not as strong as I used to be, but I can still hear you, can’t I, old chap?” Charles said, almost cheerfully, to David. David nodded, and spooned up more soup. “So, Alex… are your explosions useful for gardening?” Charles had a twinkle in his eye.

“Uh… not unless you want craters.” Alex said, slowly. “Lots of craters.”  
“So, the back yard’s looking like a good place to practice, then?” Charles said, happily. Alex felt himself begin to relax, a little.  
“But _why_ can’t you live with Scott?” David was looking upset. “I got to live with Daddy!”  
“David, dear” Charles began, almost helplessly.  
“Because Scott’s foster parents are assholes.” Hank said bluntly. “Sorry. That’s uh, a bad word, you shouldn’t use it. But that’s why.” Alex didn’t say anything. His shoulders hunched and he stared at the tabletop, dumbly.

“Oh.” David said, slowly. There was a pause. Alex stared at nothing, and willed his eyes to stop prickeling. Hank hunched over his notes. Charles nibbled on a sandwich and glanced at David, worriedly. David frowned, and then his face lit up. He turned tohis father and said, eagerly:  
“Can Scott come over and play sometime Daddy? He likes Jean, an’ she’s like me, too.”  
“Yes, of course.” Charles said, reassuringly. “When the house is a bit more in order, we’ll have a party and you can invite Scott and Jean and anyone you want.” 

David beamed, brightly.  
“Alex, c'n you an’ Hank come to my party?” David said, immediately. He looked delighted with his cunning plan. Hank smiled and Alex choked back a laugh. David was _devious_ for a little kid. An his Dad appeared to find it funny.  
“Sure thing, little buddy.” Alex said. Satisfied, David ate the last of his dinosaur. 

________________

 

Erik was pleased to see his new neighbour had found his way to Tante Ruth’s and was enjoying an early supper with his son. The man looked as if he didn’t get enough to eat. He was slightly less pleased to see his foster son wasting good study time hanging around the café with them, rather than taking notes with Hank. He nodded to them as he swept into the café. He marched up to the counter, and swept Tante Ruth into a dignified hug. She laughed. Erik didn’t notice Charles staring at the display of affection with wistful eyes, but Alex did. He nudged Hank.

“So, I see you’re doing homework very thoroughly.” Erik said, dryly as he came over to the booth, coffee in hand. Alex shrugged, unrepentantly. Hank swallowed.  
“We’ve got a lot of the science revision done, Mr Lensherr. Really. A lot.” He leafed through his note book.  
“Not that it’ll do us much good, seeing as we still don’t have a replacement for Mr Richards.” Alex muttered. Erik raised an eyebrow at them an Alex subsided.  
“I assure you, Mr Lensherr-“ Charles said, calmly.  
“Erik, please.” Erik said, slowly. 

Charles stood up, brushing crumps from his lap as he did so.  
“Erik,” Charles said, scarcely missing a bit “The boys had barely sat down before you came in.” The boys did their best to look industrious as Erik silently stared at Charles, who wilted visibly under that stern gaze.  
“I’m sure they work very hard.” He finished, a little feebly. Charles dropped some bills on the table top. “Well, I hate to dine and dash but we have to- David? Have you finished?” The small boy nodded and slid out of his seat. Charles held out a hand to him, and babbled various goodbyes as he steadily backed away and left the café, son in tow.

“Stop _scaring_ him, dude!” Alex protested, after Charles and David were safely out of earshot, laughingly.  
“I’m not scaring him!” Erik said indignantly. He wasn’t. He was being polite and welcoming to a new neighbour; there was no need for someone who didn’t know Erik to respond to that with fear.  
“No, maybe it’s not you, Mr Lensherr.” Hank said, thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s whoever you remind him of.” Erik stared.  
“What?” he said, finally. He didn’t like what Hank was implying. It couldn’t be true.  
“If someone, um, if they, uhm, you know, scared him before, maybe that’s why...” Hank ran out of words. 

Erik stared some more, out of the window, at Charles’s fleeing back. His gut twisted, uncomfortably. The silence around the booth grew.  
“I see.” He said, slowly.  
The moment was broken by Ruth, as she bustled by to pick up the plates.  
“Has he left already? He hasn’t eaten half his food.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Erik, you’re going to have to feed him up.” She pointed at him, half seriously.  
“Me? Why me?” Erik said, plaintively.  
“Because he’s too thin, as I said.”  
“Yes, Tante, I know, but why…” Erik gazed into his Aunt’s face, saw the slowly widening grin, and swallowed down the rest of his sentence. He knew that look.

Well, damn. Erik was in trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch10  
Emma Frost looked at the man seated in front of her desk and raised a single eyebrow. It did not appear to disturb him, and as he was also a telepath, one with reasonably strong metal shields, she could not tell if this was an act or not without becoming noticeably discourteous. A pity. Emma rather liked appearing courteous, unless there was a profoundly greater need driving her.  
“You seem rather over qualified, Mr Xavier, to be a high school science teacher.” She said, neutrally. His face grew a little tenser. Perhaps he was not as calm as he seemed.  
“I’m sure you would only accept the best for your students, Ms Frost.” He gave a wry smile then. “Or I would never have applied.”

“True, but we rarely get holders of double Oxford University doctorates applying here. I believe it’s not inappropriate of me to wonder why.” Emma said, coolly. “And if I do check up on your CV, what will I find? What do you expect people to say if I ask them why you left, or where you went?” He stiffened again.  
“As to why I left, I gave a variety of good reasons each and every time. But for any of them knowing where I went, well. None of them do, I hope.” His last sentence was spoken so quietly she almost didn’t catch it.  
“Ashamed?” Emma made her voice light and biting, contemptuous. 

“Not at all. I have very good reasons, personal ones, why I do not wish to be directly traced here.” Charles said, calmly and clearly.  
“Legal reasons?” she said, crisply. He looked weary.  
“No. My background and criminal record checks will tell you that. I assume you are making them now?”   
Emma nodded. Family matter perhaps? Blackmail? She sensed he would not say more on that point, and moved on.  
“And your reasons for applying for this job, in particular?” His face betrayed little relief that they had left the biggest question behind.  
“Well, I have already moved into this town. And I have always loved teaching- “ He began, before she cut him off.

“Mr Xavier. Please do me the courtesy of skipping the diversionary babble.”  
He sighed. “Two reasons. One is my son, David.” She blinked, trying to follow his reasoning  
“The eight year old?” He had said David was the reason he had moved to a new town, away from the city, but still….  
“Yes.” Charles said, firmly. “ He currently attends the Middle School across the road. I would like to be able to keep an eye on him as we move into a new place.”  
“And the other reason?” Emma was fascinated now.  
“I genuinely do love teaching. Almost more than pure research.”

 _“High School Students?_ ” Emma did not bother to hide her incredulity.  
“Anyone who is able to learn anything. Or be made to learn, I suppose.” he said with a sudden swift smile that transformed his face and eyes as if sunlight had glanced across them.   
A silence grew in the room then, as Emma considered. Certainly, Dr Xavier was a very clever man, and probably a brilliant tutor to college students. He thought he could cope with her students. Very well. A terms’ trial should at least provide a little entertainment for her. Even if he could not teach as well as he thought he could, Charles Xavier would doubtless hammer enough of the basic facts home through sheer effort.

Not that she would offer him the job before his background checks came through, though.

\---------------

A noisy banging of the door announced that David was home. Heavier footsteps clomping along behind him- Charles reached out and brushed the nearby minds, and smiled when he recognised Alex and Hank, too.  
“Hello, everyone!” he called from his study. Muffled shouts replied. David? He queried, silently.  
 _-Me an’ Hank and Alex are looking at the yard so’s we know what needs doing before the party!-_ David replied. He sounded quite gleeful. Charles put down his notebook _\- AND Alex gave me a lift in his car.-_  
“Ah, a transport of delight?” Charles said, appearing at the back door. Hank and Alex didn’t look up from their measuring at first, until David squealed and threw himself into his father’s arms.

“Yeah, is… is that ok, Mr Xavier?” Alex said, worriedly “I- we were coming straight here and-” his anxiety was palpable. David frowned.  
“Of course it’s fine, Alex. Erik says you’re a good driver” Charles said, encouragingly.  
“For a teenager.” The two boys chorused.  
“Yes, that, and I know the car is safe; because Erik repairs it for you.”  
Erik had found Charles a cheap, ugly, old car for a remarkably low price; and it ran beautifully. Charles had every faith in Erik’s mechanic skills after that monstrous looking car had turned up in his driveway. If Erik is a mutant- and Charles thinks it’s likely; given his attitude to Alex and David- his gifts must surely be something to do with engines or machinery.

“Seriously, Alex, as long as you drive safely, I am fine with you giving David a lift, when he deserves it.” David beamed. Alex looked a little shifty.  
“Yeah, well, sometimes it’s tricky, Cause the Strykers don’t like me hanging round Scotty, and-“  
“I understand.” Charles said, quietly.  
“I like Scott.” David said, firmly. “Not as much as Jean does, though.” Hank smiled, and after a beat, so did Alex.  
“Yeah, kiddo?” he said, carefully.  
“Yes.” David said, with authority. “Girls are silly.” The others tried not to laugh. David frowned at them reproachfully.

“That reminds me, I’m meeting the Strykers tomorrow for coffee; so they can check my teeth and so on, before the party. Any tips?” Charles said, brightly.  
“Wait… Scott is really coming to the party?” Alex said, struggling against hope.  
“Daddy said I could invite _anyone!_ ” David said.  
Charles smiled. “Assuming I pass muster tomorrow.” Alex swallowed.  
“Just talk about science and academic stuff a lot- try not to mention you’re a mutant, or Erik, or Alex.” Hank said. “They’re a bit… conservative.”  
“Understood.” Charles said. “Also, Alex?  
“Yeah?”

“I may not say so openly to them; but I am very firmly on your and Scott’s side in this.” Charles tucked his hands into his pockets. “You are a very decent young man; and I’m sure you are a very good older brother, too. I have faith in you.” Alex swallowed again, staring at the shorter, dark haired man, who smiled up at him serenely. He blinked.  
“Thanks, professor.” Alex said huskily. Charles flushed.  
“I’m not a professor any more, Alex, you don’t have to-“  
“You will be, though.” Hank said, tilting his glasses. “I mean, Mrs Grey said, you’re taking Mr Richard’s post?” He sounded uncertain.

“Oh, yes, but I don’t think you call teachers professor here.”  
“We don’t.” Hank admitted, sadly. Alex grinned, reaching for the measuring tape again  
“Yeah, but you’ll always be our professor.” He said as he marked off another section of yard. Charles ducked his head and smiled.

\----------

“Your son is a… gifted boy, I understand?” Mrs Stryker, “Call me Nicky” said. Her husband grunted. Neither David nor Scott looked up from the colouring books the café had given them. Charles was quietly pleased he had remembered to bring a decent selection of coloured pencils.  
“I like to think so.” Charles said, cheerfully and deliberately ignoring the undertones of Nicky’s question. He sipped at his terrible coffee. On Alex’s advice, he had not gone to Ruth’s Foods for his meeting with the Strykers; but to the Purity Coffee bar instead. The Strykers did not approve of Tante Ruth.

In fact, Charles was getting the idea the couple didn’t approve of much. He wondered why on earth they had decided to foster at all. It could be a messy, complicated thing, raising a child with love. If that was what they were doing. Were capable of doing, even. He flicked a glance at David, who seemed placid enough. He gave his father a small smile.  
Charles had seen too many trophy children, wheeled on to perform and impress, and hidden away if they did not, to believe that the Stykers were both caring and good parents to Scott without proof.  
“Is Scott your only child?” he said, politely. Bill Stryker froze, briefly. Mrs Stryker tensed. Scott didn’t look up, only colouring his spaceman more firmly.

“No.” Mrs Stryker said, firmly. “There was... there is Todd.” She smiled, weakly, at nothing in particular.  
“ Honey.” Bill said, quietly. Then “Eight, he’d have been.” Bill grunted. “Like Scott here.” Scott didn’t react. David looked from Mrs Stryker to her husband, and started a new picture.  
“Todd was… Todd was our son.” Charles blinked. “He… he died. That’s why we decided to, you know... Adopt.”  
“ _Honey._ ” Stryker said, more firmly. Nicky smiled vacantly at him.  
“Adopt?” Charles said, politely, but with a sinking feeling in his heart. Poor Alex. _Poor Scott_.

“Well, eventually.” Mrs Stryker fluttered. “We can only foster now. But, but soon… I’m sure we’ll have T-“ she paused. “I mean, we’’ll have Scott as our own.”  
“Looking forwards to it, aren’t you, son?” Stryker said, meaningfully, to Scott. Scott looked up and nodded, wordlessly. Charles didn’t say anything. David handed Scott the red pencil.  
The conversation drifted to other things. Charles kept it going for another twenty minutes, but he was secretly deeply glad when Mr Stryker began to make noises about the day wearing on.   
“Real estate waits for no man, I understand.” Charles said, brightly, as he shook hands. “I do hope you’ll all be able to come.”

“I might. Scott sure will” said Bill. “Not so sure about Nicky, here. Nicky!” He spoke his wife’s name, sharply. She stopped staring at Scott, and smiled, almost vacantly.  
“Coming, dear. Come along T-scott.”   
Scott wordlessly pushed the drawing he’d been colouring into Charles’ hands and left. Charles looked at it.  
Four blobby people were holding hands. Charles squinted at them.   
_-It’s his mom and dad and him and Alex-_ David said, wordlessly. Charles nodded. Inwardly, he felt a great determination. He was not going to let the Strykers edit Alex out of his little brother’s life.

“Shall we put it on the fridge door next to yours when we get home?”


	7. Chapter 7

Charles was mildly surprised, when he considered his life, to find that he was enjoying himself, most of the time. David had settled well at school; and the presence of not only other mutants, but another telepath in the class with him had made a lot of difference to his confidence. Jean was a pleasant little girl; and her non telepath parents had clearly done wonders (for non telepaths) in teaching her good manners and ethics. Charles was delighted to see them rubbing off on David. He was much better at asking before reading someone more deeply than a quick skim, and also better at tact when it came to talking or not talking about what he saw. Perhaps Scott Summers, Alex’s little brother had helped with that. They were in the same class. The two boys had had one big quarrel- mediated by Jean, and since then had been the best of friends at school.

Scott’s foster parents worried Charles. They were apparently very protective of their foster child; vetting his friends and the families of his friends, for suitability; they were wealthy and wanted to adopt. So far so good. But there was something distinctly unnerving about Mrs Stryker’s constant references to her deceased son, Todd. David had said that Mrs Stryker occasionally called Scott by Todd’s name.   
Scott was very quiet and subdued, compared to Alex. Of course his brother was much older, and a mutant, too. The boy had a streetwise, self protective air that Charles wished he had had himself, once upon a time. Perhaps it would have steered him clear of Jason, and his tangled webs of love and insecurity, pain and paranoia, before it was too late. Perhaps Charles could have saved himself some of the bruises and bleeding, if he’d been wiser.

Alex had happily stripped back the garden to its bones- and they were good bones indeed. Mostly he had used sharp, edged tools provided by Erik; but Charles had permitted the occasional concussive blast, when a particularly stubborn root or boulder was involved. Hank had turned up as well, along with some of Alex’s other friends, and helped Charles in his battles with the flat pack furniture from hell. To David’s eternal sadness, and Charles’ not so secret relief, there was no pond, well or other water source hidden below the rampaging weeds. Most of the yard was simply flattened and re turfed, or re sown with grass seed. Charles finds himself thinking about vegetable growing, next year, if everything went well.

As well as organising the house, the boys in the yard, and David, Charles found himself a job. At first, it’s a desperate scramble to keep up; lesson plans and tests and homework and marking. Adjusting to level of high school students is hard, and Charles refuses to let them settle for anything less than the best they can do. There were a few murmurs when parents heard that a telepath was teaching their children; but they died off fast. 

The Principal of the School is (a) a telepath and (b) Emma Frost, so no one raised too much of a fuss. Charles doesn’t let them know the exact status of his powers, and all his students behave reasonably well, anyway. And, of course, there’s Erik. Erik is… puzzling, to Charles. He knows he is afraid of men like Erik; tall men, angry men. Charles tries to react to Erik, and not the memories of his past. Alex is clearly fond of his foster father; which is a good sign. David appears to like him, too. 

Yet when Erik is curt, brusque or impatient, Charles finds himself resorting to older self protective instincts and fleeing, all too often.  
His nerves haven’t quite got the better of him yet, but Charles is quietly anticipating the disgust, or pity in Erik’s eyes when he sees Charles flinch or cower, once too often, and puts all the pieces together. He’s not sure which would be worse. Pity is harder to disguise, Charles knows. Disgust would cut deeper.

\-----------

The house warming party consists of: Alex, Erik, Hank and two of their friends, a boy called Sean and a girl called Angel. Some of the rest of the neighbours drift in and out of the infant garden, bringing salad and casseroles, carefully avoiding fragile seedlings and muddy dust. The Strykers stand a little stiffly in a corner, chattering away with some of the parents from Scott’s class. Jean’s mother, Mrs Grey is there. She brought the potato salad David likes best, even though Jean prefers rice salad. David likes her; she has never felt sorry for David because he has only Daddy. Or because he’s a mutant, or anything. She’s never been afraid of David, either, even when he forgets and doesn’t use his mouth. She is nice.

Lots of adults don’t like it when David uses his silent voice, or when he doesn’t wait for them to ask things before he answers them. He’s getting better at it, Daddy says, and Alex says that control gets easier when you get bigger. His classmates are used to it, because they’ve all grown up with Jean, and even the silly ones who are afraid don’t say anything mean where they know she’ll hear them. The barbecue sputters attractively. Angel is pouring non alcoholic drinks as if she was paid to, and Tante Ruth guards her chocolate cakes from marauders until the meat is done. Twelve of David’s little friends and associates (exactly half his classmates) run about, shrieking happily. David runs with them. There is a chasing game; and a climbing game, and David wins, because he knows which tree is the easiest to climb.

Daddy had said he could either invite everyone, or up to half the class, but no leaving only one person out. David knows Daddy is remembering his own childhood when he says that; but it is also sensible, so he invites half. Scott is happy, even though his eyes have started aching again. He is careful not to pay too much attention to Alex until David tells him it’s safe, Bill and Nicki aren’t looking. David knows he shouldn’t be nudging the Strykers to ignore Scott; but he wants his best friend to enjoy his party. Nicki and Bill make Scott unhappy. Scott says that’s not true, but David can see it. Jean can too. They don’t _see_ Scott when they look at him. 

David wonders what they do see, but manages to stop himself from trying to find out. He had told Daddy that Nicki and Bill weren’t thinking right about Scott, and helping them to think properly, but Daddy had told him no; you can’t do that. People should only change their minds from the inside themselves. Daddy went stiff and edgy, like he’s been thinking about That Man, when he says that, so David promises. That Man didn’t like telepathy, or the fact that Daddy had David, and he hurt Daddy, lots. David tried to hurt him back, to make him stop, but he was too small, then. It never lasted, and it made David’s head hurt.

And That Man kept on trying to make Daddy smaller and smaller ‘cause That Man thought he wouldn’t be big enough in the world unless he made all the other people smaller, even though he was already taller than Daddy. And every time Daddy got hurt again, by That Man, he tried to hide it from David, which itched in both their heads, and then they had to move away from everything and it was horrible. And Daddy says he says that trying to change people minds hurts them, even if they don’t know or remember it. David remembers being hurt, and Daddy being hurt, by That Man, and he doesn’t want to be like That Man, ever. So now David just _nudges_ , very gently, like feathers, like holding eggs, and Scott goes by yelling on Alex’s shoulders, and the Strykers don’t notice.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles’s housewarming party was surprisingly bearable, Erik thought. He leaned against one of the remaining trees and watched the neighbours and parents chat. He sipped some of the non-alcoholic fruit punch Angel had forced on him, and hoped that Tante Ruth would allow him some chocolate cake soon. The fruit punch was not particularly pleasant, being too sweet and too artificial for Erik’s tastes, but it was cold and wet. Erik would have preferred a good, or even a bad beer, but there was no beer available- there was no alcohol being served at all. Ned-down-the road (terrible driver who kept grinding his clutch) had brought a couple of six packs of beer, but Charles had simply put them away without opening them. 

Erik frowned to himself. He eyed Charles as the man fluttered around his guests, and speculated. Well. Perhaps Charles knew that most of the party goers would be drivers, or thought it was too early for booze, or something. All the same, he wondered. Scott raced by, along with David, and the herd of brats Erik wasn’t going to bother to recall the names of. Alex followed, a happy glow in his eyes. Erik looked for Charles again. He was fairly certain, given how quiet and pleasantly sociable the Strykers were being, that someone was leaning on them, mentally.

Normally, the sight of Alex and Scott within 100 yards of each other made Nicki twitch and Bill frown. Erik stared at Charles again, until the telepath caught his eye, and raised an eyebrow. Charles looked puzzled, and then he smiled and began drifting over to Erik, slowly. Erik watched him walk and enjoyed the view. Erik wasn’t sure, given how evasive the other man usually was, but he thought Charles was having a good time; not only at his own party, but perhaps also more generally. His eyes seemed brighter, and his movements faster and more graceful, on the rare occasions Erik got to see him at anything other than a distance.

Charles had been extremely grateful, about the car that Erik had found for him; that was cheap, and ran well enough, once Erik had beaten it into submission to its driver’s every whim, but that gratitude had not transmuted itself into the closer friendship Erik admitted he had been half hoping for. Charles was still too thin, and tired looking, but the mysterious black eye had faded, and not been replaced with another injury. That pleased Erik, for some reason. The idea of Charles being hurt twisted something in him uncomfortably when he had to consider it. But Charles was rarely in one place, and rarely close enough to Erik for Erik to do anything about it.

Charles reached his side and smiled up at him, happily. Erik felt a surprising clench in the regain of his heartstrings, and ignored it, firmly.  
“What?” Erik said.  
“What, what?” Charles giggled, his eyes bright, at the awful pun. “I’m sorry, it’s the moods here.” Erik looked a little blank. Charles continued, cheerily. “The children, the adults- everyone’s mostly happy, and-” he gestured, vaguely. Erik smiled. Oh. No wonder there wasn’t any booze at this party. Telepaths were more easily affected by ambient moods; Charles must be particularly susceptible.  
“I wondered if you were leaning on the Strykers.” Erik said, jovially. “They’re behaving themselves quite well.”

Charles frowned slightly. “No-ooo, that’s not me.” He put a hand to his temple. “I mean, I can’t be sure any more but-” Erik lost interest in the Strykers.  
“Anymore?” he said, lightly. Charles’ shoulders hunched, and the telepath wrapped his arms around himself for comfort. His gaze went blank and distant.  
“Hey.” Erik said, reaching out to him swiftly “That was just a random question, I don’t-“  
“No, I know.” Charles said, and tried to smile. Erik realised he was gripping Charles’ arm, almost too hard, and he transferred his hand to the small of Charles’ back, trying to support without aggression. He’d noticed, in the past, Charles tended to back away from anger or aggression, whoever it was being aimed at. 

“I- it’s just, it’s hard, when you had something, an ability, something precious, when it gets damaged.” Charles said, trying for airy, and failing, badly. Erik was reminded or Alex, insisting he was fine, that he missed Scotty, but he was doing just fine. He snorted, letting Charles know he was not succeeding in deceiving him. Charles’ face changed.  
“I used to be a much more powerful telepath, you see. And then… Well, now I’m not anymore.” Charles’ attempt at a brave smile was pitiful. Erik nodded.   
“I’m sorry. I’d hate to lose my metal.” He said, feelingly. Charles relaxed a little. He leant against Erik’s arm, almost trustingly.

Erik was seized with a wild and thoroughly unhelpful desire to sweep the smaller man off his feet, and kiss him, and also possibly to carry him far away from everything that had ever hurt him. Fervently, Erik hoped Charles wasn’t scanning him closely enough to detect the thought before he was able to repress it.  
“Can you tell me what happened?” Erik said, trying for gentle. Charles paled.  
“No. Or rather, yes, but not… not here. Not now.” He said, distressed. Erik realised the story must be worse than anything he was think of; and nodded, hastily. “Of course. I’m sorry, Charles.”  
“Don’t be; it wasn’t you-“ Charles broke off abruptly. Erik frowned, but Charles was clearly no longer caught up in the past.

“David Xavier, _stop that at once._ ” Charles snapped, quietly. Across the garden, David dropped out of the tree he was climbing, and stared at his father with huge, sad eyes. Erik realised Charles must have been speaking telepathically as well as out loud.  
“Ah…” He started, ready to slide off and let Charles discipline his son in private.  
“But, it’s only helping them ignore stuff!” David protested as he walked towards them.  
Behind him, Scott stared at the tree, eyes red-rimmed and watering. He whimpered. Erik looked around for Alex, but the boy was nowhere to be found.  
“David.” Charles said, more gently. “No. I know they can’t tell, I know you’re not changing them, but- stop it, David, please.” David frowned, unhappily. Erik thought the child might be considering pouting. He did his best to look disapproving, like Charles. 

Just because the Strykers were jerks didn’t mean that David was very close to doing something completely illegal; if it was discovered that he was mentally influencing others deliberately. That came with quite a few unpleasant consequences that Erik could think of. Being foster father to a mutant with control issues had taught him quite a lot. Erik began to list those consequences in his head, on the off chance that David really did have problems controlling his power; reading that list, which started with mandatory counselling, and/or training, and ran a whole gamut of increasingly unpleasant options, ending with forcible suppression of all mutant abilities and imprisonment. 

It had taken Erik some very fast talking and glaring to keep Alex out of trouble, and the boy still had to have monthly meetings with a smug, ignorant mutant-powers counsellor. David frowned at Erik, before turning his stare towards on his father, who calmly stared back at his son in disapproval. The telepathic showdown was interrupted abruptly, by two things. Firstly, there was the distinctive sound of a concussive blast which was rapidly followed by startled screams and yells as a tree crashed to the ground. Erik glanced about wildly, for Alex, only to see him pound into the yard and stop short, staring at his little brother, Scott. Scott’s eyes were closed, and the child was hunched over, shaking, but Erik could see the trail of destruction led away from him, and not Alex. 

Scott Summers had just manifested as a mutant.

\-----------

 _"No, no, no!”_ Erik swivelled to see what stupid woman was yelling now, and saw Mrs Stryker, Nicki, screaming at her foster son. Erik thought she looked more angry than afraid. Her face was bright red, and her hands had folded themselves into fists. Her husband had a hand on her arm, but she shook it off impatiently as she advanced on Scott. Scott was crying. He had squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears were leaking out and trailing down his face. People were beginning to mutter; some had already drifted away. Charles ignored them, heading straight for Scott, who was clearly in shock. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and he flinched -Stay clear- he sent to David.

 _-I want to help!-_ David sent back, desperately. _–He’s my_ friend-  
 _-Calm your mind, first, build up your shields and then bring Alex over-_ Charles shot back, as he bent over Scott’s huddled form.  
“Scott. Scott, can you hear me?” he said, gently. Scott simply whimpered. Mrs Stryker shrieked again, this time wordlessly.  
“Erik, can you ask these nice people to leave, please?” Chares said, aloud, hoping the staring audience would take the hint, before he lost some of his fine control and _shoved_ at the insensitive idiots. He wished Emma Frost was here.  
“No, we don’t need to call an ambulance.” Erik snapped at Ned. “No one’s hurt. Yet.” He glanced at Charles, who was still talking to Scott.

“”You stop this _right now,_ young man. My son is not a mutant!” Mrs Stryker declared, rather ridiculously. Erik snorted, as he ushered the last guests out.  
“Honey-“ Mr Stryker tried to pull his wife away, forcefully. She swayed, and then slipped out of his grasp.  
“What?” Said Alex. “Scotty isn’t your son!” Hank advanced to stand next to him, in support.  
“Please stop shouting at him, it won’t help.” Charles said, wearily.  
“I’m not your son”, Scott screamed, shrilly. “I’m not, _I’m not!_ ” He began to sob. His eyes began to open. The blasts of force that radiated from his eyes hit the ground between his feet, knocking him and Charles over. David ran to his father, frightened.

“Scotty, they’re coming from your eyes! Keep your eyes shut, ok?” Alex said, hoarsely. Scott’s eyes squeezed shut again, and he nodded, fiercely.  
“It’s alright, Scott, you’re my friend. Daddy is here, too, it’ll be alright” David said, urgently, as if saying something could make it so.  
Mrs Stryker marched over, grabbing Scott by his shirt front and shaking him. Charles stumbled up, with David’s help, and put a hand on her arm, trying to pry her loose without hurting Scott. It proved to be difficult  
“We’re not losing you again, Todd. You are not a mutant. Say it!” she ranted. Scott’s head wobbled back and forth as she shook him.

“Honey, _enough!_ ” Bill grabbed at his wife’s head, turning her to face him. “This… This isn’t Todd.” He faltered, as she stared at him, and began shaking her head.  
“No!” she screamed, blindly, dropping Scott almost on top of David. “He’s mine, he’s ours, Todd is NOT a mutant!” She sobbed, and then said, quietly “I can’t let them take him away again.”  
“I’m SCOTT!” Scott yelled. Charles put his arms around both boys, and began to urge them backwards, towards Hank and Alex, and away from the hysterical woman. When she realised that Charles was guiding Scott away from her, Mrs Stryker flew at Charles, frantically. She clawed at his face, forcing him to hold her hands away from his eyes as he pleaded with her. 

Nicki Stryker’s violent emotions battered at Charles, wearing through his shields and saturating him with a toxic mix of rage and fear. Charles reeled. Her shrieking, hysterical grief over Todd’s death had curdled into something unspeakable through her long denial of it, and Charles was choking on it. All he could do was block David from getting caught up in the backlash.  
Erik moved. He took Mrs Stryker by the shoulders, and pulled. When she staggered backwards, he changed his grip, shifting his hands until the idiot woman was bent forwards, away from Scott, and Erik was able to force both her hands behind her back, and hold them, threaded though his own

“Don’t just stand there, man.” He panted, as she thrashed. “Call your crazy wife an ambulance, before I have to punch her or Charles has to shut her mind down.” Stryker stared, irresolute, for a minute, before groping for his cellphone and mumbling into it desperately.   
Charles stood where he was, and swayed, trying to regain mental and physical equilibrium. David slipped his hand into his father’s and waited with him. Alex snatched up Scott in his arms, and began to talk to him, softly, muttered reassurances and questions Scott couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. Scott put his head down on his brother’s shoulder and began to sob again.

“Can you… can you let her go, now? She’s quietened down.” Bill Stryker said, his eyes flicking from side to side as he spoke to Erik. Steadily, Erik relaxed his grip, but as soon as she felt free, Mrs Stryker attempted to head towards Scott again, moaning for Todd. Alex flinched.  
“Mrs Styker. Nicki. Enough. Scott is not Todd. Todd is dead.” Charles said, gently but firmly. Nicki shrieked and tried to put her hands over her ears. Erik grabbed her again. “Mrs Stryker.” Charles tried again. “Your son did die. I’m very sorry.” Mrs Stryker shook her head. “Your foster son is alive. Stop it, _please_.”

Erik thought it was likely Charles was underlining his spoken words with a mental reinforcement, judging by the way she could plainly still hear Charles, even when she did not want to. One of her nails had scratched a red line down his cheek; Erik wished he had moved faster. Charles’ eyes flickered towards Erik and back again as he continued to talk the woman down.  
The ambulance came with very little fuss, and Mrs Stryker went into it quietly enough. Bill Stryker leaned on the door of the ambulance and began to climb in.  
“Mr Stryker!” Charles said, urgently  
“What?” the man said, dully. All his attention was focused on the interior of the ambulance.

“What about Scott?” Alex said, suddenly. “What do you want-“ Stryker shrugged.   
“Do whatever.” He said, and went up another step.  
“He’s your responsibility!” Erik snapped, furious.  
“Look, I’m kinda occupied, right now.” Stryker said, bluntly. “With her.” He gestured into the ambulance.“Scott was her idea, ya know” he continued. “I… after Todd, I didn’t...” He paused. “I thought he’d stop her going crazy. He didn’t. Now he’s a mutie. You know what to do with muties, better’n me, Lensherr.” The last sentence was almost a sneer.

He swung the ambulance door shut in Erik’s face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott settles into the Lensherr household, and David makes his mind up.

“How’s Scott settling in?” Charles asked, carefully concealing- he hoped- his appreciation of the sight of Erik at work, bent over his car.  
“Considering he still has to wear a blindfold at all times?” Erik said, to the car engine he was wrestling with.. “He’s as happy as a clam. Are clams happy?”  
“I don’t know.” Charles said thoughtfully. “I’ve rarely considered the emotional state of shellfish.”  
“Huh.” Erik grunted. He summoned a spanner with his gift. “Well, he has fewer nightmares now.” The late afternoon sun shone on his shoulders. Charles resolutely did not stare.  
“That’s good. And the Strykers?” he said, hastily, in case his silence could be misinterpreted. Erik grunted again, sourly.  
“Haven’t heard from them. Far as I know, she’s out of hospital, but that’s all I know.”

“So they really haven’t been in touch?” Charles said, uncertainly.  
“No. Hand me that cloth, will you?” Erik grunted in reply. Charles tossed him the old towel and Erik straightened up from regarding the car engine, wiping his hands as he did. “The Stryker’s sent a box of clothes and toys that week; and neither I nor social services have heard from them since.”  
“Incredible.” Charles shook his head.  
“When it comes to human fear of mutants and mutations, nothing’s incredible, as I’m sure _you_ know.” Erik said, reaching for the oil pan with his gift. “Unlike the state of your car engine. What did you _do_ to it?”  
“I- what do you mean?” Charles said, evasively.  
“The sump block-“ Erik began, always ready to share his knowledge on the proper care and treatment of cars. Charles shook his head, quickly.  
“No, not that part, Erik. I know I was cruel to your car-”  
“Not my car-“ Erik objected, politely ignoring Charles’ flushed face..

He’d sold the car to Charles, which meant that it was his now, even if Erik had asked for less than half of what he’d paid for it. He wasn’t going to deny the cruelty part though. Charles did not understand the gentle art of driving.  
“Your car,” Charles repeated. “What did you mean about human fear?” Erik stopped fiddling with the dipstick, and turned to look at Charles fully. The teacher had put on a little weight since the disastrous housewarming, and, although he still looked tired, Erik was now more prepared to ascribe that to student antics of the usual kind, rather than whatever strain had been draining him before he moved into the house. He blinked, acknowledging Erik’s scrutiny, and waited.

“I meant, that humans have always feared the different. And rejected it. Surely you can’t tell me you’ve haven’t experienced aggression, prejudice or violence because of what you are?” Charles’ shoulders relaxed- Erik hadn’t noticed how stiffly he’d been holding them until then. Curious.  
“Well.” Charles said, thoughtfully. “What _am_ I?”  
“Um” Erik said. Somehow he doubted Charles really wanted Erik’s opinion of him. Not that it was a bad one, really. Just a little… overly fixated on a few details. Like the man’s eyes.  
“ A single parent, academic, blue eyed, bisexual man?”  
“What?” Erik said, slightly distracted. He hadn’t been aware of the bisexual aspect before. 

Charles flushed again.  
“I mean,” he continued rapidly “I’m all of these things as well as a telepath; why should I define one part of me, like my mutation, as somehow making me special, when other people can – and have- disliked all the rest?” he finished, a little more quietly. Erik stepped towards him.  
“So, you’re equal opportunity when it comes to your low self esteem?” He teased, gently, bringing up the grubby cloth to swipe at the engine muck that had somehow spread from Xavier’s hands to his face earlier.   
“Not- _ugh_ \- quite-a- what I meant.” Charles jerked out between swipes of the towel. “I – _agh_ \- meant that yes, I have experienced prejudice and- Stop it, Erik!-“  
Erik stopped scrubbing with the towel, but left the hand he’d been using to steady Charles’s head cupping the back of his skull. Charles continued, speaking more rapidly.  
“And aggression because of my telepathy; but that’s not the only reason I have-“  
“Aggression? Violence?” Erik said, very quietly and seriously. He noticed Charles’ immediate, tiny flinch, and felt an unexpected bubble of anger began to rise in him. 

Erik dropped the towel, and began to slide his fingers through Charles’ hair, lifting his hand away. Charles bent one arm behind himself and rested his own hand over Erik’s; keeping the mechanic’s fingers on the back of his head. Erik stood very still, scarcely daring to breathe.  
“Yes.” Charles said, quietly. Erik blinked. Charles drew in a deep breath. “I have experienced aggression. And prejudice. But for other things than reading people’s minds.”  
“Can you tell me?” Erik said, still quietly. Charles’ eyes were suspiciously bright. He shook his head, wordlessly. Erik tried not to feel a pang of rejection. Charles’ face crumpled, and he took a step towards Erik, hiding his face against Erik’s oily T-shirt. The bubble of anger burst; leaving Erik shaken.  
“I, that is, not yet.” Charles mumbled, squeezing Erik’s fingers. “But, I think, maybe one day?” 

Gently, Erik tightened his grip on the back of Charles’s head, and brought his other hand up to cover Charles’ hand on his. Charles sighed, letting out a long breath.  
“One day is good.” Erik said gently. “If you need to. But it’s not, I don’t… you don’t have to.” Charles’s hand slid along Erik’s arm, slipping from between Erik’s hands to clasp his shoulder.  
They stood like that for a time, in silence, not quite hugging. Eventually, Erik dropped a kiss on Charles’ head, and the other man straightened up, and stepped away.  
“Thank you.” He said, gravely. Erik shook his head. Charles’ eyes were still bright, but the threat of tears seemed to have passed.  
“You don’t have to thank me.” He rumbled. Charles swallowed. “I haven’t done anything any good friend wouldn’t do.”

Charles frowned slightly, working out the implications of the tangled statement, before smiling. Erik smiled back at him.  
“So, I’m a “good friend” then?” he said hopefully.   
“You must be- I wouldn’t fix a car like this for just anyone you know.” Erik said, slightly awkwardly.  
“Oh, yes, of course… your car.” Charles said, slyly.  
“Your car. Only good friends get forgiven for doing what’s been done to this car.” Erik growled. Charles began to grin.  
“And am I?” he said, lightly

“What?” Erik said, He still could not look away from Charles’s gaze.  
“Forgiven?” Charles breathed, weighting the word with more importance than the car engine probably deserved.  
“You, Charles?” Erik said, thoughtfully. “ _Always._ ”

\------------------

“To your left. No, a bit further.” David said. Scott moved his head to David’s instructions, and then opened his eyes, briefly. A small concussive blast erupted, and shredded the brambles in front of the boys. Scott whooped. David grinned.  
“And again!” David cried, excitedly.  
Scott blinked. The brambles shredded a little further. David reached for the rake, and began combing up the scraps of the weeds into a bigger heap. Scott sat patiently waiting for his next plant targets to be selected.  
“Is it better?” David asked. Scott cocked his head to one side, thoughtfully.

“I can’t see, _and_ they won’t let me back into school yet.” David felt the now familiar mix of helplessness/irritation/satisfaction roll off his friend and said nothing. Scott didn’t like not being able to see, but he liked being a mutant, and he didn’t really mind missing school… only his friends. David felt warm and pleased, that Scott so clearly thought of him as a friend.  
“Jean says she’ll bring her notes and workbooks over when we stop weeding with your eyes.” David said, briefly. Both boys paused to consider the weirdness of a person being unable to appreciate being able to blast stubborn weeds just by looking at them.  
“I wish I could join in.” Scott said, faintly enviously. “Erik says I can’t have a cell phone till I’m a teenager.”

“We can try, but Jean says it makes her head hurt if she does too loud and long.” David said, doubtfully. He didn’t say that it would be harder for the two telepaths to keep themselves from seeing anything Scott wanted to keep private; Scott knew that.  
“Nah, s’okay. Alex has cookies; we can go over to mine to study. Jean likes reading aloud.”  
“It’s stupid. They ought to let you back in school.” David said, grumpily. “It’s no fun without you.”  
“Can’t keep up with the class, yet.” Scott said, shortly. “More weeds?”  
“Here, like this.” David shoved- gently- an image of his view into Scott’s head.

Scott considered for a moment, and then re targeted the bramble patch. It erupted in another minor explosion of weeds.  
“I can always lend you my eyes.” David offered, brightly. He could. They were the same height, and it wouldn’t be too hard. And then David could help his best friend and everyone.  
“Erik says I have to learn to control my powers.” Scott said, a little uncomfortably. He blasted a sapling that Charles had marked down for removal. Both boys ducked out of the way as it creaked and fell down. David went back to raking. When the weeds had dried enough, they were going to have a bonfire.  
“What’s he like?” he asked, casually.

“Who, Erik?” Scott shrugged. “He’s ok.” The feelings behind the answer were complicated, David frowned a little as he untangled them. Happiness-relaxation-caution-peace-anxiety washed over them, as Scott groped for the blindfold currently hanging round his neck. Scott was happy to be with Alex, and Erik let him do that. Erik was calmer about bedtimes and clean hands and stuff than the Strykers had been. Erik never sent Scott to bed hungry, or made him skip meals in case he grew faster than Todd. Erik never called Scott Todd, or compared Scott to Todd, or told him he had to like stuff that Todd had liked. But Erik was also tall, and strong, and quick- David understood that caution; it was his own, too, after That Man. And sometimes Erik was curt, brusque and grumpy.

“Huh.” David said, slowly. “Are you scared of him?”  
“No!” Scott said, indignantly “Alex said, he’s ok. He’d never… He said he’d never hit me, or, or starve me, or anything like that.” He tightened the blindfold, angrily. David was silent. “And, you can see him; he doesn’t ever think like that, does he? There was a pause. “ _Does_ he?” Scott said, worriedly.  
“I can’t… can’t read him easily.” David faltered. “And Daddy says I shouldn’t, mustn’t push, unless I ask. Like I asked you, an’ Jean.” Scott put his hand out, slowly, uncertainly. David took it. The two boys walked away from the weeding.  
“Does your Dad read him?” Scott said.

“Daddy… He can’t, very well any more. That Man, he hurt him. I… some of it was my fault.” David said, hastily.  
“How?” Scott said. “Alex says if someone hurts you, that’s them, not you.” David hunched in on himself. Scott winced at the darker mood that radiated from him.  
“That Man wanted Daddy to himself; then Mom went away, and Daddy had to look after me. So I was in the way and he didn’t like it.” David said, sadly.  
“But he was your Dad!” Scott said, angrily. “He had to look after you.”  
“Yeah.” David kicked at a weed that had escaped the rake. “But sometimes when I was able to, I made him not hurt Daddy, think of something else.”

“Sounds like a good idea?” Scott said, hopefully. “What happened?”  
“I wasn’t very good. He noticed.” David confessed, miserably.  
“Did he hit you?” Scott said. If he ever got That Man’s name out of his friend, Scott thought, he’d just go and look at him. Really hard. Like he was a bramble patch.  
“He thought it was Daddy. He made… Daddy took the pills. He had to. Even though there were too many. That Man made him, and it hurt his reading. My fault.” David said, in a very small voice. “No, you can’t blast him!” he said, slightly more shrilly. Scott whirled to stare through his blindfold at David

“Why not?”  
“He doesn’t know where we are, he mustn’t find out. He’ll come after us and Daddy will get hurt again.” David said, frantically. “Please, you can’t Scott! Pleas-!”  
“Ok, ok.” Scott said, quickly. “I won’t.” He put a hand on David’s shoulder. “Alex has cookies.”  
“Who made them?” David said, instantly. Cookies were way more important than That Man.  
“Hank. Chocolate chip.” Scott said. Hank’s cookies were the best in town, apart from Tante Ruth’s, of course.  
“Let’s go. Want to use my eyes again?” David said; eager to leave behind That Man and uncomfortable things. Scott nodded. 

Very, very privately, Scott thought about Erik. Even if he couldn’t blast the man who walked in David’s nightmares, the man who had hurt David’s Dad so badly, he was sure Erik or Alex could do something. Erik was good at looking after people; and he seemed to like hanging around Mr Charles. Alex had said so.

Meanwhile, there were cookies. 

Very, very privately, David thought it might be safe to talk to Erik and see what he wanted from Daddy, or from David. Maybe he wouldn’t notice David trying to read him. Erik didn’t seem like That Man, according to Alex and Scott, so if he liked Daddy the way Daddy liked him, Erik could help look after Daddy; if That Man ever came back.

Meanwhile, there were cookies, and helping Scott to see.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David confronts Erik. Erik is... surprised.

Erik was being stared at again. David Xavier probably thought he was being sneaky, but he had change in his pocket, and a distinctive belt buckle that Erik could feel from behind the stack of car tyres. He wondered what the child telepath wanted.  
“Scott’s over at Jean’s” Erik said, aloud, as he sorted his toolbox again. He felt David’s belt buckle jerk as the boy jumped.  
“How did you-?” he said, breathlessly, as he emerged from his hiding place into the garage.   
“Belt buckle.” Erik said, simply. He waggled his fingers near his temple as he had seen Charles do before. “I could sense it.” He added, helpfully.  
“Oh.” David said, in a small voice.  
“Where’s-“ Erik began.

“Daddy is marking homework and he said I could go and play outside ‘slong as I was near a responsible adult. Are you responsible?” he looked at Erik, anxiously.  
“For a great many things.” Erik said, dryly. “I see. Alright, then.” David relaxed a little, and went back to staring. “What?” He said, striving for more patience.  
“I…” said David, slowly.   
Erik eyed him for a moment, and then summoned the pail of jumbled washers and screws and other oddments.  
“Here.” He said, more gently. “Sort these while you’re thinking.” David eyed them, uncertainly. “Please.” Erik added. David began to pick out screws, and lay them on the concrete in rows, according to size. Erik went back to wiping over his smaller jack. 

They both worked in an almost comfortable silence for a while.  
“Do you like Daddy?” David, said, suddenly, to the nails he was holding. Erik bit his lip, and tried to repress his knee jerk reactions behind a sturdy mental barrier. David frowned, but Erik reminded himself, the kid was only eight, even if he was a mind reader.  
“I like Charles, yes. He’s a good man, an interesting man.” Erik said, slowly.  
David looked at him impatiently, as if he knew Erik was being deliberately vague.  
“I’m not stupid, you know.” He said, clearly. He put the nails down and reached for another handful of metal.  
“I know you’re not stupid, David.” Erik said. “You take after your dad there. Charles is also clever.” He smiled. David regarded him more intensely.

“Daddy likes you.” David said. Erik swallowed down his suddenly racing heart, and fought down a desire to ask for more details. Pumping his neighbour’s child for information on how much, and in what way his neighbour liked him probably wouldn’t go down well with the object of Erik’s affections.  
“David, I don’t think your father would appreciate being talked about like this.” He said, seriously, trying not to patronise the child.  
“I know. But I have to do it.” David said, seriously. Erik raised an eyebrow.  
“Have to?” he said, curiously. David went pink, and his mouth set in an unhappy line.

“He won’t.” David said, eventually. “That man scared him.” Erik laid aside his tool box and swivelled to face the boy directly.  
“Scared him?” he said, calmly. David wriggled, awkwardly.  
“Before. Before we came here. Daddy liked him, but he hurt him and now-“  
“David, stop.” Erik said quickly. Undoubtedly, David was talking about the aggression and violence Charles had said he had faced before, that he wasn’t ready to tell Erik about.  
“Your father has told me he’s not ready to talk about it yet.” Erik said. David’s eyes widened.   
“He did? He never says anything about it. To _anyone_ ” He looked unhappy.

 

“That’s up to him, David.” Erik said, calmly. David shuffled nearer to Erik, and put a hand on his knee.  
“But-“ he said, pleadingly. Erik softened.  
“Look, if something worries you, you can tell me, or ask me, if you want. But wouldn’t it be better if we both talked to your-“  
“I want to talk to you.” David said stubbornly. Erik sighed.  
“Go on, then.” He said, patiently.   
“I- I just want to say, if you do, if you do like Daddy, an’ he likes you, _I can hurt you._ ” Erik blinked. He knew this was intended seriously, on the boy’s part. 

David was utterly convinced of his power to do harm, and being a telepath, he probably wasn’t completely wrong. Still, Erik wanted to laugh a little, staring at the little boy threatening him.  
“If I do like your father, you’ll hurt me?” Erik said, slowly.  
“Not will”. David said, impatiently. “ _Can_.”   
Erik looked at the child’s strained face, and his tense, unhappy mouth, so like his fathers’, and the desire to laugh left him. David was genuinely worried about Charles’s well being.  
“If you hurt Daddy.” David repeated, almost hopelessly. “I can hurt you. With my mind. So _don’t._ ” He finished, pleadingly.

“David.” He began, and then stopped, and tried again. “David. I don’t want to hurt your Daddy. Ever.” David searched his face, but seemed to find the truth there, and the boy nodded. Erik’s innate honesty forced him into speech again. “But sometimes I make mistakes, and I might accidentally say or do something that upsets him. Or you.”  
“That doesn’t matter.” David said, scornfully. “ _I_ ’m ok.”  
“It does to your father.” Erik said, gently. “And that matters to me.” David blinked. Apparently he had not been expecting that.  
“But you won’t ever try to hurt him?” he persisted.  
“No. I can promise you that.” Erik said, fiercely. David seemed pleased.

“I won’t ever be like that man you wanted to talk about.” Erik felt this needed emphasising. Erik floated a broken wrench in front of David’s face, and crushed it into a tiny ball with his powers. “And if anyone, anyone, wants to hurt you or your father, they’ll have to deal with _me._ ” David’s eyes grew dangerously bright.  
 _“Promise?”_ he said, face alight with a desperate hope.  
“Promise.” Erik said, solemnly and seriously. He put out a hand. David took it, and they shook on it, firmly. Erik pretended not to notice when David’s eyes overflowed, until the boy wiped his face with one sleeve. Erik bent towards him, then, and David lurched clumsily into his arms, sniffling. 

Erik glared at the sorted metal pieces, and they flew to their bins and jars, obediently. He stood up, and lifted David with him. The boy stiffened slightly, startled, as Erik picked him up.  
“Now.” Erik said. “I’m going to have piece of cake at Tante Ruth’s. Want to come?”  
“Yes, please.” Said David, wiping his nose. As he walked to the car, Erik texted Charles. He knew the telepath kept mental tabs on his son, but he thought David might be outside his father’s optimum range soon. He didn’t want Charles to worry, when he surfaced from his marking, and couldn’t locate his son. And he could always bring some cake back for Charles, from Tante Ruth’s.

_+Your son found my garage. Going for cake at TR’s.+_


	11. Chapter 11

Charles signed for the delivery van driver, and tucked the box under one arm. He ran a quick mental check over the house and smiled to himself when he realised Alex, Scott and David were all busy “weeding” the yard again. The bramble patch would not see another sunrise at this rate. The bonfire promised to be glorious. With the boys all occupied, it was a good time to go and see Erik. Not, Charles tried to persuade himself, because he wanted Erik to himself, but rather because Tony’s ideas for helping Scott were somewhat technical, and they would doubtless be bored, and want to try it out before understanding the theories behind it

Charles gnawed worriedly on his lower lip as he dashed up the street. He rather thought Erik was repairing at home again. Tony was a… friend, a contact from his old life. One that Jason had forced him to abandon long before he and David had had to flee. Tony had a reputation for bed hopping like no other. Jason had been violently insecure and jealous whenever Tony so much as glanced at him. Charles was fairly sure he had more of a little brother relationship with Tony than anything else, even if half his interactions with Tony had been merely playful jousting for the older brother position. But Jason had not wanted to hear it; and Charles had quietly let things drop, back in the day when he had thought walking on eggshells around Jason might actually help.

Was it wise for Charles to be stirring up the past like this? Tony was not his ex, so he was sure Erik wouldn’t mind Charles getting back in touch- not that he had any right to resent Charles doing that even if Tony had been Charles’s ex- but still. Erik might have agreed to wait until Charles was ready to talk, but that didn’t mean he might not seize any opening to find out more. Still, Scott seemed to be unable to control his powers. Most suppression drugs came with a wide variety of unpleasant side effects that Charles knew all too well. That left devices, and Tony and Bruce were two of the few scientist engineers Charles knew, and certainly were the only ones he would trust to create a mutation limitation device for a child.

Charles just hoped Erik wouldn’t be angry with him. He hadn’t asked before placing Scott’s case in front of Tony; in case Tony had not wanted to bother with Charles again. He might well not have wanted to help someone who first dropped him like a hot stone and then crashed back into his life demanding help, years later, without any contact in between. However, Tony _had_ replied to his letter; and with more than just a note, going by the size of the box. He might already have had a few ideas that would be applicable to Scott’s predicament. That was a good sign. Maybe… maybe, if Tony wasn’t too angry, they could keep in touch again. That would be nice. If Erik understood, it would be even nicer.

Charles put out a hand, and rapped on the door. There was a pause, where nothing happened. Charles frowned. Perhaps Erik was asleep, or had gone out? Odd. He thought he’d felt a mind moving in there. Then Charles spotted the doorbell. Flushing, he pressed it, and was rewarded with a sound like a diseased cathedral. He jumped.  
“The chimes were Alex’s choice.” Erik said from behind him. Charles whirled round again, eyes huge and heart pounding.   
“I- um, the post came.” Charles said, more or less randomly. Erik gave the box a cursory glance.  
“Are you alright, Charles?” he said, softly.

“Yes.” Charles said, rapidly. “Yes, I am. Just… I didn’t hear you.” He took a deep breath.  
“I’m sorry. That must be disconcerting, for a telepath>” Erik said. He steeped towards Charles, and embraced him, loosely. Charles leaned into the hug, and Erik tightened his grip just a little. He didn’t want Charles to feel trapped, when he was clearly so jumpy.  
“For anyone, I imagine,” Charles said, a little evasively.   
“Mmm.” Erik conceded the point. People often found him disconcerting. Erik really wasn’t too sure why, when he rarely felt the need to threaten or appear threatening. He felt something digging into his ribs.

“What came in the post? Care to discuss it over a game of chess?” he offered, easily, and was pleased to see Charles relax and smile at him more genuinely.   
“Thank you. Chess would be lovely.” He said, before beginning to ramble about the vagaries of the US postal system as Erik led them both into the house.

“So, I spoke to an old engineering friend of mine; about Scott’s problems” Charles began, nervously. Erik looked interested as he set up the chessboard.  
“Mutant?” he asked, cautiously. Charles winced.  
“Tony? I don’t think so.” Charles said. Erik felt himself beginning to frown. “Anyway, he and Bruce-“  
“Tony and Bruce?” Erik said doubtfully. Then he spots the Stark Industries labels on the box and says “Wait, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner?”  
“Um. Yes?” Charles said, uncertainly. Erik hastily caught his jaw before it dropped fully open. The chess board was abandoned for the moment.

“How do you know-“ Erik started, before he saw Charles flinch, and stopped, kicking himself. He made himself go back to putting the chess pieces out.  
“Please, Erik. “ Charles said, tensely. “We went to college together, that’s all.” Erik smiled at him, reassuringly.  
“Anyway, he’s sent this.” Charles brandished the box.  
“What is it?” Erik said. Charles breathed a silent sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to cross question him about his past.  
“I don’t know, I haven’t opened it.” He said, brightly. Erik raised an eyebrow.  
“Here” Erik took a smooth strip of steel out of his pocket, and reformed it into a letter opener.

Charles took it and used it to pry at the box. It was warm from Erik’s fingers, he noted, absently. The box exploded with packing peanuts, showering both of them. Charles set aside the letter, at the top of the box, and lifted out a child sized device that looked like a heavy pair of sunglasses. He stared at it. Erik stared at it.  
“What does the letter say?” Erik said, eventually. Charles ran an eye rapidly over it, and blushed.

_Hey, Charlie! The letter ran._

_Long time no hear._

_Thanks for dropping a puzzle on me, I couldn’t sleep last night, so I got to thinking about it. Bruce had a few ideas- he understands radiation and energy states almost as well as me (don’t tell him, he’ll only get a swelled head)_

_Would be great to see you actually in the flesh (and maybe the kid, and his glasses in action) sometime. Call Pepper and she’ll send a jet or a car or something and we can meet and do stuff. I promise it won’t end like the golf did. Or that time in New York._

_I’ve got stuff I wouldn’t want to talk to with anyone else; and as for you, young man!  
Thought you might have been kidnapped by aliens, or a superspy or some shit like that. You married, single, pregnant yet? I never did like that hulking friend of yours; tell me he’s dropped dead or something, please. Lie to me if you have to. I’m strong, I can take it._

_Oh yeah- The glasses should absorb or block the force the kid puts out; and he should be able to see through them pretty much like usual. If you could take a few readings and scans, I- we can fiddle with it a bit more._

_Tony._

 

“Oh, same old Tony, mostly.” He said, folding it quickly. “But this is a pair of glasses, made of ruby quartz- he thinks it should contain Scott’s blasts without hurting him or causing side effects.”  
“Well. Let’s hope they work.” Erik said.   
“We can step over to my house and have a trial run.” Charles said, happily. “The boys are weeding again” He sensed Erik’s mood change and looked up across the board at him, anxiously.  
“Charles. I know I said I wouldn’t ask-“ he began, gently.  
“Yes, you did.” Charles said, abruptly. His shoulders tightened up and he braced himself for the blow.  
“And I’m not. Asking, that is.” Erik tried to sound reassuring. “But I had a conversation with your son the other day-“

“What did David say this time?” Charles said, anxiously.  
“Nothing untoward.” Erik smiled. “You should be proud of him- you’re raising a fine man there. But he said some things that make me feel I need to talk to you.”  
“About?” Charles said, dreading the response.  
“You. And me. Apparently, you _like_ me?” Erik tried not to sound like a twelve year old girl. When he saw Charles’s face twitch as he smothered a smile, he knew he had failed.  
“I um, ah, yes?” Charles said, blushing again. “And?”  
“And the fact that I like you is detectable by eight year olds, apparently.”

“Eight year old telepaths.” Charles said, comfortingly. He caught Erik’s eye, and they both snorted with laughter for a minute.  
“I didn’t know if David had… misunderstood what he said he saw.” Erik said, slowly. He didn’t want to put Charles on the spot. “How do you know Tony Stark, anyway?”  
“Our families knew each other. And, and we went to college together, for a few terms. Then-“ Charles stopped. “We kind of drifted apart. More my fault than his, I suppose.”  
“I find that hard to believe.” Erik rumbled. Charles moved again, twisting the knight between his fingers

“Well, it was, I suppose, I lost contact with most of my friends then.”  
“When was that?” Erik felt suddenly alert. Charles was in a confiding mood, for once. Perhaps the conversation he had promised earlier was at hand.  
“Oh, that would have been- hmm, not long after David was born.” Charles said, almost casually. He placed the knight back in the box with the other chess pieces.  
“Small ones can be very absorbing, I know.” Erik said. Charles flushed and then paled.  
“Yes. David was living with his mother then, I didn’t have him with me until he was four.  
“You never married his mother?” Erik said, mildly curious. David had said his mother was gone; had the boy meant dead or divorced?

“No, although I offered. We never even really dated all that much.” Charles said, earnestly. “She wasn’t interested, until she got sick.” He sighed.   
“Did she“ Erik began, and then stopped, not knowing quite how to frame the question.  
“Cancer.” Charles said, simply, and then was quiet for a space.  
“I’m so sorry.” Erik said, finally. “I know how much that can hurt.”  
“Yes.” Charles said, softly. “And then David came to me and- and Jason.” His voice didn’t quite break, on Jason’s name.  
“Jason.” said Erik, quietly. It wasn’t quite a question. Charles tensed, anyway. Wordless, he nodded. Erik looked at him for a while.

“Would you like some tea, or coffee?” Erik said, shifting off the couch and away from the chess board completely.   
“Um. Tea, please.” Charles said, slowly. Erik grunted, and walked into the kitchen. Charles drifted after him. He sat at the table.   
“Tante Ruth always insists on tea, when she comes over.” Erik explained. He set the kettle on to boil and joined Charles in sitting down.  
“What?” Charles said, blankly.  
“I said-“ Erik began, slightly nervously. Erik regarded his hands, and carefully uncurled them, laying his palms flat on the kitchen table, as unthreateningly as possible.  
“I know, I just-“ Charles put his hands on the table, and began inching them towards Erik’s as he spoke. “I’m an adult, you know.” He said, not quite meeting Erik’s eye.

“I know.” Erik said calmly. “So am I.” Their finger tips met. There was another silence.  
“I- I am a telepath.” Charles said, tautly. Erik looked surprised.  
“I know you are, Charles.” He said. Why was Charles bringing this up?  
“I- there was an overdose of suppressants; so I’m not – I don’t have the reach or ear I used to, but- I still, I might…” Charles paused. Erik waited patiently.   
Plainly, this was something Charles felt he had to say; even if Erik didn’t understand how it connected to their previous conversations or the kissing. The kettle began to whistle, absently, Erik poured hot water and stirred, without taking his attention off Charles.  
“I might- I overhear you. I- without meaning to. Sometimes, loud thoughts, or feelings- I can’t help it.” Charles said, nervously.

“I know that, Charles.” Erik said. “So?” Charles gave him a long look, and licked his lips, worriedly. Erik tried not to find the sight distracting, without much success.  
“But I’d never put thoughts into your mind, I’d _never_ -“ Charles began.  
“Charles, what _is_ this? I know you wouldn’t do that.” Erik said, puzzled. “I’m a mutant myself, as are my foster kids; I know how these things work.”   
Did Charles feel that Erik’s friendship for him was false? Worse, did he think Erik thought that? Erik felt a pang, looking at Charles’ hunched shoulders, averted eyes. Who had made Charles so defensive of himself and his powers?  
“He thought that.” Charles said, very quietly.  
“Who did?” he said, at last.

“Jason. My ex.” Charles said, finally, almost whispering.  
“Jason was your ex boyfriend?” Erik said, eventually, as he set the mug in front of Charles. Bleakly, Charles stared at it.  
“He preferred the word partner.” He said, not daring to look up. Erik squeezed his shoulder and dropped into the seat opposite.  
“Ah.” Erik said, as neutrally as possible, not daring to press more, in case Charles clammed up, or he lost control of the calm he was trying to feel for the telepath’s sake.  
“Anyway. You said that David had said things to you?” Charles said, hoping to change the subject, slightly. Erik scratched the side of his neck, a little awkwardly.  
“Yes. He was worried about you.” Charles looked up then, meeting Erik’s eyes in surprise

“Why?”  
“I stopped him, when I thought he was going to tell me things you might prefer me not to know, or to tell me yourself. But he said something about, about a man. Who hurt you, in the past. I’m not… trying to ask for things you don’t want to tell me.” There was another long pause. “Was Jason the person David was talking about, Charles?” Erik said, rapidly.   
“What did he say?” Charles gulped.  
“Just that, that you’d been hurt. And that he could hurt me.”  
“He can’t, he doesn’t know where we- oh, you mean _David_ said he would hurt you?” Charles gaped. David was such a gentle child, who loathed violence. How had-  
“If I hurt his Daddy, yes.” Erik sounded almost… approving? Charles blinked.

“Oh. Oh, David.” Charles’ eyes prickled. His poor, brave son, trying to protect the man who should have been protecting him.  
“I told him I’d do my best not to. I didn’t want to promise the impossible; David’s a smart boy. He’d know if I felt uncertain, or doubtful.”  
“That’s… very kind of you.” Charles managed. “I’m sorry, I don’t-“ He took a hasty gulp of tea, wincing at the heat.  
“And I also said that if anyone wanted to hurt you or David, they would have to come through me, too.” Erik finished, calmly. Charles stared at him, disbelievingly.  
“What?” Charles said, as he ran his fingers through his hair.  
“I said, Charles, that-“

“I heard you, I just, don’t.” Charles’ eyes were glistening. He stood up, abruptly, and Erik did, too. They stepped around the table. Charles had to tilt his head to look Erik in the eye.  
“Charles?” Erik said, worriedly. “I don’t want to undermine you, I know you’re an adult and can look after yourself, and David, it’s just, just-” His hands spread, awkwardly, in front of him. In spite of himself, Charles smiled at that. Erik had no idea what to say. He wanted to reassure Charles, tell him Erik could be trusted, That he could trus- 

Oh. Charles had just kissed him. 

When Erik’s brain rebooted from that, he felt the most necessary thing to do right then was to kiss Charles back. They could deal with threats and promises and everything else later.  
“I suppose we can table this for later?” he murmured into Charles’ mouth.   
Erik felt Charles smile against his mouth as he replied  
“I don’t see why not.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jason, and his deeply creepy and unreliable point of view feature. Jason is a horrible person.

Warning: Jason’s (creepy) and unreliable POV

Jason kicked at the wall, and cursed when his foot hurt. The place wasn’t his, so he didn’t care about the dent in the plaster. How could Charles do this to him _again_? Despite what he was, Jason loved Charles Xavier. Didn’t he understand Jason needed him? Loved him? Owned him?

Alright, so when he’d spotted Charles in the train station, he shouldn’t have chased after him like that. He could see how Charles- anyone- might find that alarming, at least until he realised who it was. And he could forgive Charles for not realising it was Jason holding him at once. Jason was a reasonable guy. And since Charlie had down the right thing with the pills for his powers when Jason asked, Charles would never have known who it was until Jason spoke. So the initial panic could be excused. But not the wild struggling that had earned Charles a black eye for not staying still.

That had got the security guards involved, and in the fast talking Jason had had to do to get himself out of trouble, Charles had just… slipped away like he had two years before. Like Jason’s love didn’t mean anything to him anymore, now he had the brat. Jason had loved Charles first. Why couldn’t Charles ever put Jason first? He paced the empty apartment, angry and frustrated. He had got so close to finding his lost love again, and then, nothing. They’d been living here, he could tell, in the abandoned science journals, the left behind posters and bills. But no one knew where they’d gone.

Still Jason knew he had to be strong, for Charles. Because he loved him. Because he knew, he knew, Charles loved him back, deep down. Charles was simply afraid of permanence, of commitment. He had run as soon as it had appeared, in the shape of the brat. As soon as Jason had suggested more…definite arrangements, he’d vanished for the first time. Obviously, when Charles had got back from the station, he’d swept his son and a few of his things into boxes and vamoosed again. Jason shook his head. He hated to think of them, living on the road, living out of suitcases, fleeing like refugees from Jason’s affections. Why couldn’t Charles do what was best for him, and the kid?

Kids needed discipline- hell, Charles needed discipline. Why was he so eager to escape Jason’s help and support when it was obvious Jason could do a better job of raising the brat than Charles could hope to do by himself? He wiped stinging eyes. It was hard, the way his honest love was rejected. But he loved Charles anyway. Jason’s cell rang. He flicked it out, checked the number, and out it away unanswered. Work again. They could do without him for a few more days. This was the first solid lead he’d had on Charles for years. He had to follow it up; find Charles and bring him back home, where he belonged. And keep him there. He had a set of rooms picked out.

Charles had been so _difficult._ He must have got more cunning as he tried, again, and again, to reject and abandon Jason. Bank accounts had gone untouched. Friends and family – such as they were- had gone un contacted. Forwarding address had not been left. Health insurance and driving licenses had not been transferred. Academic journals had made do without articles from Dr Charles Xavier, PhD. Police and PI’s and private schools had all come back with the same answer: nothing. Still, there was always hope. Charles had to have hired a truck or a van for some of this; and he thought the brat was still small enough to need a car seat. That was a starting point. 

\------------------

 

Alex sounded his horn again, impatient now. Scott shifted in the back seat, fiddling with his new glasses. He grinned as the backdoor was flung open by an eager David.  
“Yes, we’re a little late today, thank you Alex.” Charles said, shutting the car door.  
“S’ok, Prof. See you in class!” Alex said cheerfully. Charles beamed at them as they set off. Alex smiled to himself.  
Although he knew Charles was too strict a teacher to give him good grades just because he took his son too school at the same time as his little brother, he was sure it couldn’t hurt. Not everyone could be a brain, like Hank.  
“Guess what, guess what?” said David, eagerly. He bounced in his seat, against the seatbelt.

Scott blinked at him. He was enjoying being able to see again, even if the first week back was full of catch-up work.  
“What?” said Scott, aloud.  
“I saw Daddy kissing your- kissing Erik again last night!” David said, cheerfully. Alex frantically tried to keep his eyes on the road.  
 _“Again_?” he croaked. Two sets of young eyes viewed him with surprise.  
“Didn’t you know?” Scott said, in surprise. “They started last week.” Alex twitched.  
This was… not ideal. Charles was gentle; was a telepath. And good at compromise. Surely he needed someone gentle, too, not Erik’s steel-strong engine of a will and heart? Alex doubted Erik even knew what compromise meant; except perhaps as something other people did around him.

David stared at him. _Fuck._ Too late, Alex remembered David’s gifts, and now he was thinking swearwords around a kid, oh hell. David grinned, and Alex felt a hot wave of relief. The kid was far less jumpy than his Dad, but still, Alex knew, overhearing things was a problem for him. Scott stared at them both, puzzled, and then he smirked; and Alex knew David had let him in on Alex’s flustered thoughts.  
“I’ll try not to hear.” David said, and he looked guilty.  
“S’ok, kid.” he said, roughly. "I think too loud.” Scott giggled.  
“Nah, you don’t think at all, big brother.” He said, laughing. Alex made a mock ferocious face at him. Scott stuck his tongue out.

“But David,” Alex said, hastily, “are you sure that Charles and Erik, uh, kissing, is, is a good idea?” He was surprised the kid wasn’t still scared of Erik; Alex had been scared of Erik, out of habit, for months before he relaxed, and he’d had Erik’s promise that he’d never hit him to reassure him. David frowned.  
“It’s alright for boys to kiss. Daddy said.” He said, at last.  
“Uh, yeah, but- Erik? Help me out here, Scott?” Alex stumbled. Scott shook his head, laughing as Alex blushed.  
“Erik’s a boy. Daddy’s a boy. Daddy said that was ok. And they like it.” David said, indignantly. Alex tried not think about it too hard.

“And Erik said he wouldn’t hurt Daddy, he promised.”  
“He promised?” Alex said  
“I told him. Not to.” David dropped his face, mumbling. Alex was secretly impressed at David’s bravery. Scott seemed to be too, judging by his awed stare.  
“Well, Erik keeps his promises, kid.” Alex said, slowly. Remembering the promise Erik had made him. There was silence in the car for five minutes.  
Alex paid strict attention to the road, and ignored as hard as he could, both the two gigglers in the back and his own lurid imagination.  
“It’s ok, Alex.” David said, aloud.

“How is it-“ Alex clipped his words off short, too late.  
“It really is.” David said, earnestly. “They’re both happy.”  
“Good to know, kid. Never tell me more.” Alex said, shortly. David looked at him again.  
“Erik still likes you and Scott.” He said, gently. Alex flushed. He had not meant the kids to pick up on his old insecurities.  
“Sorry, Davie.” He said, quickly. Scott looked startled. What was with that? Alex had apologised plenty of times before.

“He does. And Daddy does, too-“ David said, brightly “He-“  
“OK, enough.” Alex said, sharply. “You shouldn’t really be telling me what other people think about me, Davie. Some people don’t like that.” Scott shrugged, when David looked at him for confirmation. David bit his lower lip, worried.  
“Hey, don’t worry, kid.” Alex said, at last, looking at the tension on David’s face. “Just… boundaries, yeah?” He scratched his head, awkwardly. David nodded, miserably.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s fine, you’re learning. But sometimes people are… they don’t like kids who know too much, you know?” Alex hoped he doesn’t have to say more.

David and Scott both nodded, immediately.  
“Like That Man.” Scott said, understandingly. David shivered, and Scott gave him a clumsy half hug. Alex wondered at that.  
“He hurt Daddy.” David says, softly. “Because he knew more.”  
“And he hurt you.” David looked away.  
Alex tried hard not to think anything too loudly; he wondered what David was talking about. He thought he might know.  
“He hurt Daddy more. But we left him. And” His face wrinkles briefly, fierce as a lion’s cub- “Erik says he’ll hurt anyone who tries to hurt Daddy again. He _will_.” Scott nodded in agreement, firmly.

Alex was grateful that they were nearly at the school. Saved him from having to ask any questions. 

\-------------------

Jason doesn’t know what to do. He’s not used to this; he’s usually in complete command of any situation he finds himself in, but where now? The brief taste he had of Charles’ presence before isn’t enough. The calm holding Charles brings fades quickly when Charles himself is out of Jason’s reach. He goes back to work- a dull job, they don’t understand him there at all. Don’t make use of his talents properly. It’s often the case, Jason has found. People hate him, and the world so often tries to trip him up. He’d quit, but he needs the money to track his Charles down again. 

A wave of anger floods him. Charles is so selfish- he inherited most of his money; and there was a lot of it. He should have been able to be more generous; it wasn’t like Jason had wanted all that much. Just access to all the accounts. He’d wanted to take care of Charles’ business for him- was that so wrong? Before he abandoned Jason, neither of them needed to work, although Charles had his hobby-job at the university. Jason hadn’t complained, at first- Charles had needed something to occupy him before he met Jason, and there were times when Jason didn’t want Charles around.

But Charles had become _obsessed_ with his job, hiding out there at all hours, refusing to call in sick or take care of Jason or Jason’s friends. He’d had good friends then, most of who had been equally charmed by Charles, before the brat came along. After that, Charles hadn’t had much interest in entertaining. Jason shakes himself, mentally, and picks up the phone. Enough gazing into the past. He has another contact number to call; a guy who knows a guy who might be able to help, with the right encouragement. Apparently the guy works for some parcel delivery firm, and the recently lost a Stark Industries contract.

Stark Industries means an old part of Charles’ past, one Jason had thought was gone for good. Jason is a little disappointed in Charles. Tony Stark has only ever got him into trouble. Jason had taught him that; it was a shame in a way, that he’d forgotten it. Still, it was a good thing he had, if this guy who knew a guy could help any.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles and Emma uinderstand more about each other; Jason is still as creepy as all hell.

Headmistress Frost leant elegantly into the lab and raised a summoning eyebrow at Charles Xavier. Obediently, her newest acquisition left the afterschool science club members tinkering with the van Graf device and walked towards her. His face was calm, but behind that fair face swirled anxious questions.  
“Nothing serious, sugar.” She said, lightly, and was rewarded by one of his sweet smiles. “Just a couple of things to ask.” He nodded, calmly, and followed her out, after cautioning the budding mad scientists to follow Hank McCoy’s safety rules.

“So, how’s the little one settling in?” she said, when they had reached the sanctuary of her office. Like the rest of her belongings, it was elegant, expensive and very, very white.  
“David is doing very well, thank you. He and Jean-“ Emma interrupted him.  
“Sweet young telepathic love?” Emma said, amused. Charles shook his head.   
“They’re a little young for love.” He said, mildly. “He and Scott Summers and Jean have formed a terrible trio.” Charles smiled again, a little more genuinely.  
“And I have heard, on the grapevine, that Scott himself changed foster parents. How did you accomplish _that?_ I couldn’t, legally, and your current rating-“

“Oh, I didn’t really do anything.” Charles said, modestly. “I just happened to be there when Scott manifested, poor boy.” Emma frowned, delicately. Charles continued, blandly.  
“Mrs Stryker revealed some behaviour that made me think she just wasn’t up to the stresses of caring for a mutant child; I may have made my opinion on that clear to Moira, his caseworker, but really, that’s all.”  
“Hmmm.” Emma said, doubtfully. Charles’s face pinked, but he had the sense to hold his tongue. Small towns had odd histories and odd attitudes to mutants.  
“And Erik Lensherr?” Emma asked, nearly casually. Charles willed himself not to blush. Dammit, he wasn’t even sure if Erik would assume they were in a relationship, let alone want him to admit it.

“Scott is seemingly quite happy with Erik as a foster father; and living with his brother. I don’t understand why they were separated in the first place.”   
“I meant _your_ relationship with Erik, sugar. Could be I have a few points to make about getting into bed with the parents of students.” Her smile was silver sweet and sharp.  
“Oh!” Charles flushed again. Really, Emma thought, the wretched little man had to be doing it on purpose. Had he no idea of how attractive it made him?  
“Not really.” Charles said, shortly. Emma gaped, briefly “How did you-“ Charles winced. She grinned

“You’re much stronger than you let on, sweetie, aren’t you?” Carefully, Emma reinforced her mental shields. She had never let something slip out like that before; clearly she needed to practice. Hmm. Maybe she could get Xavier to help her with that… no, probably not, if he was interested in Lensherr.  
“All these years of being the only adult telepath around have made me sloppy.” She said, a little ruefully. Charles made a small, placatory gesture. “How did you manage it, Xavier?”  
“What?” Charles said, dread twisting his stomach. Please don’t ask, please don’t- he prayed, mentally.

“Your telepathic ratings are on that CV you sent me; they’re all over the place, but there’s nothing that would show you could have overheard me like that. How’d you improve?”  
Charles went pale. A flicker flash of memories leaked out before he could stop them.

 

\----------------------

 

_Dirty fingers, pushing pill after pill into his mouth. “Come on, baby. This is for us.” A familiar, dreaded voice croons. He can’t see. “We have to stay together.” The dizzying ache of a concussion muffles his thoughts like the drug does. The nausea and terror as the pills keep coming. The chalky bitter taste dissolves on his tongue, muffling him further and faster with every pill. Waking to a world gone almost soundless._

Emma made a muffled noise, slamming her shields down until she couldn’t pick anything up at all. Charles was completely silent, but as she looked at him, Emma could see his eyes were wet. Damn. The board had warned her about making staff members cry. Also Erik Lensherr will probably kill her.  
“I’m sorry, Charles. I didn’t mean to trigger-“ Emma began, a little awkwardly. She wasn’t used to having to apologise. She was even less used to _wanting_ to apologise.  
“No.” Charles said, quietly. He was still as white as death. “No, I’m sorry. I usually have better self discipline than that-“ He tried not to shiver.

“Honey? That was a flashback. I don’t think they respond to _discipline._ ” Emma drawled. “And don’t apologise. I hate apologies, from either direction.” She looked at Charles narrowly. He seemed to be getting back to himself, but still… She lightened her shields, pushing warmth and safety at him.  
He relaxed, stretching like a cat, into her swift mental hug. He absorbed the comforting feelings like sunshine after a week of rain. Shyly, he flickered gratitude and acceptance at her. Emma fought the temptation to ruffle his hair and feed him cookies. He was an employee, not a pet.   
“I’d offer you a drink, but all I have is vodka- I have a feeling you’d prefer tea.” Emma said aloud. Charles smiled, faintly. “Let’s wrap this up.” She said, firmly. Charles blinked, and rubbed his eyes, trying to get his thoughts back on track.

“Can I assure you that I won’t let my friendships with any of the children’s parents affect my marking or teaching?” Charles said, hopefully. He was too tired and stressed to feel angry or afraid over this, not after his flashback.  
“Sure thing, sugar. I believe you. For now.” She smiled, warmly.  
The phone on her desk went, just as there was a muffled boom in the direction of the science room. Charles jumped up, apologising, and headed for the door at a run. Emma waved him on, and turned to answer the phone.  
“Frost here.” The conversation that followed was short. Afterwards, Emma stared at the phone blankly, before making another call.

Charles knocked on her door after calming the over excited students, and sending them home. She hung up the phone.  
“What’s the damage?” Emma said, warily.  
“Oh, it was only a paper bag.” Charles said, reassuringly. “Was the phone call important?”  
“Not really.” Emma said, thoughtfully. “Some odd guy was spotted in town, hanging about the school gates earlier, and so on.” You know how paranoid small towns can be. I’ve run a few mental scans, there’s no one there now. I spoke to the Sherriff.” Emma said, breezily. “Now. Have you time for a pastry at Ruth’s before you rush home to the wife and kids?”

\------------------------------------

Erik almost ran into Ruth’s Foods. He relaxed when his hurried scan of his surroundings detected Charles’ watch and belt buckle were close by. Tante Ruth pointed to the furthest booth, and hefted a coffee mug, meaningfully. Erik nodded his thanks and moved towards the booth. He wondered who was with Charles. Erik could feel earrings and jewellery that indicated a woman; but-  
“Ah. Hello, Lensherr.” Emma Frost said, as soon as he was in earshot. Charles poked a pale face around the booth and beamed at Erik. Erik repressed a frown. Charles was too pale and tense again. Something must have happened.

“What’s wrong?” he said, as he slid into the booth at Charles side. He prepared to glare at Emma, if it was her fault. He was not afraid of telepathy; not when he could-  
“Nothing!” Charles said, hastily, and then, when the others were both pointedly silent at each other, he hurried into placatory speech again.  
“I… I may have had a minor flashback; but that’s all.” Erik raised an eyebrow. Emma nodded at him. “Really, it could have happened to anyone.” Charles said, a bit feebly. Charles noticed he was wringing his hands and forced himself to stop, just as Erik put a comforting hand on top of his. 

Charles tried not to lean into Erik’s supportive shoulder, in front of Emma, but it was hard.  
“I asked a question about Charles’ telepathy.” Emma conceded. “Then the Science Club performed a minor act of destruction.” Erik twitched. Charles smiled anxiously up at Tante Ruth as she brought Erik hot chocolate and a pastry.  
“Thank you, Mrs-“ he began, politely, by Ruth cut him off, smiling as she ruffled his hair.  
“Charles, darling, I’ve told you. I’m Tante Ruth to everyone.” She slipped a pastry onto his plate. “Eat. You are still too thin.” Charles flushed a little, but obediently took a bite out of the pastry. 

“What- can you tell me what it was about?” Charles closed his eyes. He shook his head.  
“I could.” Emma said, coolly. Charles opened his eyes abruptly, in fear. “But I won’t.” Erik felt himself begin to tense up in anger. Deliberately, he counted his breaths and kept his grip on Charles from tightening. Charles did not respond well to anger; he knew.   
“Charles.” Emma said, crisply. Charles raised his head. “ When you’ve been employed three months, you’ll get permamancy, and all your benefits kick in fully.” Charles looked at her, blankly. What did that have to do with anything? “Including therapy and mutant counselling.” Emma said, a little more pointedly.

“Consider it, won’t you? I miss having another adult telepath about the place.” Erik bristled, slightly. Emma regarded him, amused, and raised a single questioning eyebrow. He subsided. “You’re not the only one allowed to help, Lensherr.” Reluctantly, Erik nodded agreement as Charles breathed out in relief.  
“Anyway. I must be on my way. You two lovebirds have fun.” Emma said, as she swept away, leaving half the café staring after her, and the other half staring at Charles and Erik. Charles went a fetching pink.  
“Damn it; this’ll be round the whole town in half an hour.” Erik grumbled, sipping his hot chocolate.

With his boss out of the picture, Charles felt it was acceptable to lay his head on Erik shoulder. So he did. Erik rested his lips on Charles’ hair. It wasn’t quite a kiss.  
“Does it matter?” he said, quietly. “Do you not want-“  
“I don’t mind. But Tante Ruth will be demanding details from now until next millennium.”   
Erik grumbled. “Alex will be just as bad.” Charles stifled a tiny burst of laughter.   
“Poor Erik.” He said, giggling. “The Mighty Master of mechanics, controller of metals is afraid of his aunt.” Erik bounced his shoulder up and down, jarring Charles’ head rest.  
“Hey, no, don’t.” Charles whined, sadly.

“Sorry.” Erik said, gruffly. He cast about for another subject. “What did Frost mean, about the adult telepath?” There was a brief pause.  
“It was Jason.” Charles said; breathless and suddenly horribly pale again. Erik felt his heart sink. Inwardly he cursed himself.   
“Jason was a telepath?” he said, cautiously. By now, he knew the name of Charles’s ex, the man who had left him with so many scars, inside and out. But Charles had rarely wanted to talk about him when the two of them could talk about other, more pleasant things- or not talk at all.

“N-no- Did I not say? He wasn’t a mutant at all.” Charles said. “He- he… my telepathy made hi, self conscious; he was always after me to take suppression pills.”   
“And?” Erik said, neutrally. He did not like where this was going, given that he knew Charles’ telepathy was not what it had been.  
“And then, one day, he didn’t ask. He- I had to take them, I-“ Charles trailed off, eyes over bright. He blinked, and took a sip of his herb tea.  
“That was the flashback?” Erik said.   
“Yes. I’m sorry.” Charles said. Erik made an abrupt noise, and hauled Charles towards him, almost dragging him into his lap.

“You have nothing to apologise for, _liebling.”_ He muttered, fiercely into Charles’ hair. “ _Nothing,_ you hear me?” He wrapped his arms more tightly around Charles, as the telepath slumped into his grip. Erik tightened his grip until Charles made a faint noise of protest.  
“But-“ Charles said, breathless in an entirely more pleasant way, as the whole of Erik’s fierce affection for him covered him like a protective cloak. He felt warmed and charmed by it, even as Erik’s grasp loosened.  
“But nothing.” Erik insisted. “Now let’s get out of here; I can see Tante Ruth bearing down on us.”  
“And Alex will be ready to kill Scott and David by now.” Charles fretted. “Your place or ours for supper?” Reluctantly he untangled himself from his friend and stood up.

“I’ve seen your fridge,” Erik said, “and I refuse to let you do anything terrible to those poor vegetables again. Eggplant parmesan?”  
“I can cook!” Charles protested as they headed for the door. Erik snorted.  
“Not that, you can’t.” Erik said. “Your kitchen, my cooking?” he offered, generously. Charles smiled. Erik loved cooking; even- or especially- for Charles and his tiny family.  
“Fair enough.” He conceded.

\-----------------------------

 

Jason is ecstatic. A hit! A definite hit! Ok, it’s not exactly as definite as, say a photo or film clip would be, but still. The ex Stark Industries guy mentioned a packet, and where it was sent. The van hire places, well one of them matches the town the packet went to. Two matches make the place worth an investigator, so Jason goes with the old “skipped town owing me money” routine. Jason knows his Charlie; the man will stick out like a sore thumb. He never fit in anywhere. People were always staring at him, unless he had Jason with him, to help him out. Funny how Charles forgot that, along with all the other things Jason had done for him. Still, Jason has decided, he’ll be firm, but fair, with Charles, once he comes back. 

Jason needs some resources to make Charles his again; he knows. Charles was always stubborn, and slow to learn; Jason doubts that has changed, whatever other crazy ideas Charlie has allowed into his head, without Jason around to steer him right. But he learned what Jason wanted, or didn’t want last time, and some of the lessons had been pretty fun, so Jason almost looks forwards to teaching them again. Jason is a man of many skills and many friends. He starts to set his plans, carefully. Time off work, first. A nicely anonymous van, second. Maps. He can’t get a gun quickly, not with his record (thanks, Charlie) so he goes for a nicely legal Taser, instead. Drugs. Handcuffs. All the usual little toys, for old times’ sake.

It’s all expensive as hell, and Jason sighs, looking at his bank balance and his wallet, afterwards. Charles is going to have to work so hard to make it all up to him. He hopes Charles remembers how to feel grateful; Jason is pretty sure no one else would go to this much effort for him. But Jason loves Charles, and love is always priceless. Once the stuff’s been bought- mostly with cash, another pain in the neck moment- the van needs to be fitted up special. Jason isn’t planning on bringing Charles anywhere near a motel or hotel until the man has learnt his lesson and Jason is confident he’ll behave in public.

Charles was always a bit funny in public, sometimes he’d be sweet and perfectly behaved, and then just as suddenly, he’d switch to the kind of behaviour that showed Jason up, talking about boring stuff nobody understood, or trying to flirt with people who weren’t Jason. He did that a lot, before Jason trained him out of it. All this takes a lot of time, so Jason does his best to be patient. He surfs a few websites on behaviour modification, and weird science tricks like that, but gives it up when nothing appears but dumb stuff about pets or psychotherapy. Jason doesn’t want that; he wants results. And Charles. So he rents a few vids from the special store instead, and daydreams, replacing the girl or guy in the video with Charles every time, and wishing that the bruises weren’t make up. Jason gets to thinking, maybe, after Charles is his again, they can play a bit. Pretend like the video people do.

But, then again, Jason has always preferred reality to dreams.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason makes his move. He's not subtle about it.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning when Charles’ brave new world is shattered into pieces. David has gone to a little gathering at Jean’s, indignantly telling him, that he doesn’t need his Daddy to come as well. Scott’s with them. Alex is off gardening, and Erik is at the garage, but will be home- well, will be at Charles’- for a late lunch. Charles allows himself a moderate glow of anticipation at the prospect of some serious alone time with his lover.

Charles was sat marking homework in the kitchen, tea at his elbow, when the doorbell went. He cast out with his telepathy, something Emma has encouraged him to try more often, but this time Charles got nothing much from whoever’s calling. Only that they’re hoping this is the right address, he thinks. It doesn’t make him suspicious. Erik has gone over the house with his ruthless practicality, and there is now a lot of metal about the place. Window frames, for example, are all reinforced. The front and the back door both have a steel core, so no one can kick them down. This adds in a certain amount of interference, and Charles’ powers are not what they used to be, without line of sight or skin contact.

It’s sweet of Erik, really, to try and make Charles feel more secure. Erik would indignantly deny that sweetness was a part of his nature, though. Like his foster son Alex, the man is prickly and defensive over many things that Charles does not think are actually weaknesses. It makes for interesting debates- and reconciliations, when the debates go too far. Charles was still thinking about their last… reconciliation, when he opened the door, so it took him a moment to process who he was looking at.

“Jason?!” Charles gasped, more in disbelief than outright terror. How can Jason be here? In this place, which is safe, and secret, and…  
“You’re not that hard to track down, babe. Missed me?” Jason said, triumphantly leering at him. Charles wasn’t sure whether he had said the last out loud, or just broadcast it; in any case, he gave up thinking for reacting. As quickly as he could, Charles started to jerk the door closed, but Jason was too quick for him.

Even as the door began to close, it jerked to a stop. Charles looked down to see Jason’s foot in the door, and for the first time, he was startled to feel a wave of anger rise in him, as well as his usual fear. Jason was trying to cross the threshold of his house. _His_ house, his and David’s. Jason stopped grinning, and shoved against the door, only to curse when he realised it was on a security chain. Charles shoved the door back, unwilling to trust the strength of the chain against Jason’s strength. Inwardly he cursed himself. His phone was on the kitchen table. _Why_ hadn’t he carried it with him to the door?

Jason reached through the gap in the doorway, and grabbed Charles’ hand.  
“Listen, you’ve got to listen.” He panted. Charles shuddered, and tried to yank his hand away from Jason’s grasp. His foot slipped on the doormat, and he staggered.  
“I don’t want you here; leave or I’ll call the police.” Charles gasped, hoping it sounded firm and believable. He despaired when he heard Jason’s familiar chuckle.  
“Now, babe, you don’t mean that.” The man sounded indulgent, but Charles knew how fast Jason’s moods could shift.

Charles drew breath, ready to scream and run, when he felt something odd, lightly prickling, land on his hand. He looked down, to see metal darts and wires. Charles frowned for a moment, unable to work out what on earth it is. He shook his hand, but the darts were caught on his shirt sleeve.  
“What-“ Charles said, bewildered, and then, suddenly, pure agony raced up and down his arm, into his body, the world turning small and distant, and then blackness swallows him, terror and all. The last thing Charles sees, as he slumps, is the door shuddering on its frame, as Jason kicks out at it again.

\-------------

It was already a bad day for Erik before David screamed at him.   
Mike, the other mechanic- who was not his minion in training, damn it, Erik didn’t have any minions, worse luck- had contracted an epic case of broken leg; and was unavailable for work, at least temporarily. Which meant Erik had to cover twice as many repairs, in the meantime. His favourite toolkit had gotten covered in oil, meaning he was going have to pay Alex or David or Scott to clean it properly. Erik also had a headache; the low mean kind of headache that hangs around like an annoying neighbour.

Speaking of annoying neighbours, Charles wasn’t going to come down to the garage and help or distract Erik at any point, another bad thing about the day. The teacher had too much marking to do. Pity. Erik had discovered Charles looked good in motor oil covered overalls- indeed, Charles looked good in anything, and nothing. Charles was happy learning the intricate ways of the Car as long as Erik was his teacher. And Erik enjoyed teaching him, and in his opinion every man- and woman, he added, mentally, should know how to change the oil, check the engine and change a tyre. Particularly if they did to their cars what Charles did to his old banger.

Erik was under Mrs Jessy’s girl- why _did_ she gender all her cars as female, why?- when David screamed at him, mentally. Erik jerked upright, banged his head on the car, and cursed, rolling out from beneath the undercarriage automatically.  
“David?” he said, aloud, dazedly. A terrible feeling of dread slammed into him. Not his. David’s. He shook his head, and tried to think past the child like fear filling him up. David was going to be a powerful telepath when he grew up, if he could reach as far as Erik’s garage at eight years old.

For David to be reaching out like this, to Erik, something had to be terribly wrong. Erik tried to reach back, and was greeted with a sobbing yell that formed itself into painful words that echoed inside Erik’s skull:

_:DADDY’S GONE! CAN’T HEAR HIS MIND!! DADDY’S GONE!!:_

Erik swayed and grasped his head in his hands at the force of David’s mind.  
“David, where are you? What’s wrong?” he said aloud, hoping that voicing his thoughts would help David hear them.  
 _:Daddy’s mind went out!:_. David repeated, flashing a memory of the sensation of the sudden, frightening break in his link with his parent. 

_“Where are you?_ ” Erik repeated his query.  
 _:Jean’s. Please help, you said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt him and-:_

The little boy was sobbing in Erik’s head. Most telepaths formed links with their nearest and dearest; to lose his bond with his father so suddenly must have been shocking and frightening.  
Erk tried to infuse his thoughts with calm and reassurance.  
“David. Calm down. Tell Mrs Grey what’s happening. Ask her to take you home, it’s an emergency. I’m going straight home to check on Charles now. OK?”  
 _:O-okay:_


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason continues carrying out his plan to win back Charles' heart. Charles is not very pleased by this. Erik and Team Rescue Charles are assembled.
> 
> Improbable Drug Use contained herein.

The world filtered back in jerky fits and starts. After a moment of nauseated incomprehension, Charles realised this was because the metal panelled little room he was in was moving. He tried to sit up, and managed only to fall over sideways. His muscles were still twitching spasmodically from being electrocuted; and, Charles realised, slowly, he was tied up. His hands and feet were numb, but not swollen or blue; so however he felt, Charles’ circulation wasn’t being restricted too badly. Jason had been kind enough to use rope rather than zip ties this time. He’d also attached Charles to the side of the vehicle, so he didn’t slide about every time the thing went round a corner or over a bump in the road.

His arm ached and prickled. One of the sleeves on his shirt was torn up to the elbow. Through the rent, Charles could see needle marks near his elbow. Jason must have injected him with something, once he was unconscious. Charles drew an unsteady breath and prayed it had only been something to keep him asleep. Drugs and Jason were a frightening association. Charles strained his weakened telepathy, but he could “hear” nothing beyond the metal walls of the van. No chance to call for help. Probably Jason had planned it that way. Charles hoped Jason hadn’t decided to load him up with more suppressant drugs. The original overdose had nearly killed him. 

That had been the first time Charles had tried to leave Jason, and he hadn’t succeeded. He had learnt so much since then. That there wasn't much point in trying the police, or battered spouse shelters, for example. The combination of “mutant” and “gay” meant few people working in either was willing to listen to Charles, let alone help him without at least wanting to check details with Jason, and doing that simply made it easier for Jason to find him. Jason found charming strangers easier than anything. 

Jason. Jason had been so charming at first; until he felt insecure, or ignorant, or threatened. It had taken all Charles’ concentration and energy to keep him happy, in the beginning. Later living with Jason had cost Charles his trust, his confidence and his happiness, but he had survived. It had taken Charles a long time to realise that none of it was his fault. Jason had him again. Just as he’d promised, there was no escaping the man. Charles drew a deep breath, and waited for the frozen panic and dread to subside. He was mildly surprised to feel it do so quite quickly. 

The icy chill of his fear was being thawed out by rather more than a flash of anger. 

How _dared_ he? Wasn’t it _enough_ that he had completely altered his life, abandoning everything, twice? Hadn’t Charles told Jason, over and over, that he no longer loved him, that he would never love him again, that Jason had hurt him for the last time? Hasn’t Charles made it perfectly clear enough _yet?_ What was he going to have to do to get away this time? Somehow, the idea of another flight into anonymity with David was not as appealing, this time. He had grown to like his new house, his new career, and his new friends. Thanks to Alex, he’d even been harbouring dreams of planting a garden, for heaven’s sake. And there was Erik. _Oh, Erik._

Yet what other choice did he have? He had to protect his friends, his son; and fleeing as if nothing in the town was his reason for being there was the only way to stop Jason “revenging” himself on the things that had stolen Charles away from him. The first time he had left Jason had taught Charles that. Charles swallowed, fighting a rather more prosaic nausea, as the van lurched over a pothole. Where was Jason taking him? And what was he planning to do once they got there? Charles refused to tremble at some of the ideas that presented themselves; Jason could be a vicious sadist when riled; but he’d survived living with him before.

And now it all seemed to be happening again. Charles realised, foggily, that he was shivering again. Oh. Perhaps being tasered had had more of an effect on him that he had realised. The van swung round another corner. Charles curled up as much as he could; and tried to endure. 

\--------------------------------------------------

Jason was happy. For the first time in so long, he was happy. He wasn’t alone. Charles was with him again, and the world was in the right order for the first time in so long. The thought of Charles, lying sweetly curled up in the back of his van made him smile. Surely now, Charles would come to understand that he was Jason’s?Everything was working out almost exactly as planned. The taser had knocked Charles out long enough for Jason to force the door open. He’d broken in to find Charles, very groggy and confused, slowly crawling down the hall way. Jason had flipped Charles on to his back, and sat on him, enjoying the gleam of fear in those beautiful eyes. Jason stroked Charles’ face, lovingly. 

“I’ve missed you so much, babe.” Time was of the essence, here. It would only take one person to come knocking, or notice the open door, and things would get difficult. The brat wasn’t about- Jason had seen him leave the night before, and he hadn’t returned yet. The street was still clear. Jason allowed himself one reunion kiss, sneaking his tongue into Charles’ lax mouth. Mmm. Charles tasted like heaven, and blood. He’d bitten his tongue when he fell. “Damn it, baby, do you have to fight me on everything?” Jason said, remorsefully. “You know you only hurt us both.”

Charles weakly jerked his head aside, and Jason had felt a little hurt, and angry at the rejection. He restrained himself, and reached for the prepared syringe. Charles flailed at the syringe with his arms. Jason calmly knelt on Charles’ hand, tore the sleeve away and slipped the first needle into his beloved’s flesh. This one is sedative only. Thanks to Jason’s forward planning, he knows he won’t have to give Charles any mutant suppressants. His telepathy was almost completely gone; only the brat can really send to or hear Charles, now. Kid telepaths are really pretty weak, and they’ll be too far away to detect by the time Charles wakes up.

Jason prides himself on his cunning. He’s thinking of everything. Charles’ sluggish groaning and twitching had subsided almost immediately. Now it was time for his other medicine- the stuff the Doc had said would make any mutant love him. One last flash of fear from those baby blues, and Charles was out cold, for at least six hours. When he woke he should be much more pliable. Jason had been sceptical- he didn’t believe in magic spells or potions, but the doc had insisted; give him a few ccs of this one, and Charles would love him forever. Or at least, need him forever. Jason shrugged, mentally. Charles already loved him forever; he just didn’t know it, or wouldn’t admit it. Still, if this helped… 

He’s not too sure why this drug will work; he’d been way of giving the underground doc too many details, and the doc had responded in kind. He hadn’t even said he was chasing his love across the US, only that he needed Charles’ co operation and help with something. The Doc hadn’t even asked what kind of mutation Charles had had prior to the accidental overdose. Jason came back to himself from dreams of a more pliable Charles as the van swerved across the road. He cursed, and grabbed at the when more firmly. In the back of the van, something slid across the floor and thumped against the side. Jason frowned, and began to drive more carefully. 

The only marks on Charles’ fine pale skin that Jason wanted to see are the ones put there by his own hand.

\-------------------------------

“Are you sure he's missing?” Alex sounded half hopeful, half frantic. Small wonder if he did; David's fears had been leaking from him at irregular intervals as the child telepath gained or lost control over himself and his powers. “Couldn't have have gone for a drive?”  
“Yes, Charles is missing.” Erik snapped, curtly. “His car's outside. He's not at the school, he's not at his house or mine, or anyone else’s', Ruth hasn't seen him, and-”

“What about his phone?” Scott said. He was holding David's hands, together with Jean as his friend desperately searched for any telepathic trace of his father.   
“On the table when I found the door open.” Erik heard the tone in his voice, and took a deep breath. It wasn't the boy's fault. “David... what can you hear?” David didn't answer at first, too far away and disconnected. He registered the change in the minds anchoring his, and returned to himself, opening his eyes to say, still desperate;  
“I still can't hear him!” His lip trembled, but he didn't dare let himself cry. Jean sent soothing waves of reassurance and friendship to him. Scott blinked behind his new glasses, anxiously.

“It will be all right, David.” Jean said. “It will. Mr Erik is here.” She looked at Erik firmly, and he nodded. David began to relax a little. Erik drew a deep breath. He'd called the police, he'd called Moira, Scott's social worker, and none of them had been much use, even if they meant well. It was too soon for Charles to really be missing; they said, even if David couldn't sense him. Two hours wasn't enough. Even with the evidence of the broken door chain, there was no blood, no sign of a forced entry beyond a broken vase. Charles might just have gone to the local hardware store for a new door chain. Without his car.

Erik shook his head. His gut told him Charles was in trouble; and of course, he could not forget everything Charles had ever mentioned or hinted at about Jason. Although he had been violent and abusive, Charles had been quite sure the man didn't know where they were and could not trace them. He'd left his whole life- friends, family, money behind, twice. They had come to Erik's town at random; picking the place from a list of jobs and houses vacant found in a cybercafé one day, the day Jason had come across Charles by accident at the train station. Charles had run, and, once he'd picked up David, had run again. Erik had thought that only a happy chance that had directed them his way. A lucky chance, for both of them.

Now, Erik wasn't so sure about the luck. He shook himself and returned to business.  
“David, how far away must your father be, if you can't hear his mind, even asleep?”   
“I- a long way.” David looked thoughtful. Erik gritted his teeth. Patience, he reminded himself. “I, uh, maybe a mile? Out of town?” He said, thoughtfully.  
“Right, so, wherever he is, however he is, you'd sense him within that limit?”  
“Yes.” David said. He swallowed. “Probably.” he amended. Jean gripped his hand tightly. Alex had already turned and run for the map, anticipating his foster father's next demand. He was back within minutes, breathing heavily.

They spread the map across Charles's kitchen table, that Erik hja helped him bring home from a lawn sale one day. Erik pulled out a pencil, and began to mark.  
“So, this circle is a mile outside the house. And this is a mile outside the town limits. If Charles were within these limits, you'd sense him?” David nodded.  
“So we gotta look beyond them! If he's been taken, we can pick up the trail.” Alex said. His face fell. “But there's three roads out of town- I mean, ones that don't end in housing.”  
“Yes, but we have to think which one's more likely- the Downe road leads nowhere in particular, and Highway Nine goes to the city.” Erik said, staring at the paper.

“And the other leads past my house.” A new voice said. Erik looked up to see Emma Frost, the head of the high school where his- where Charles taught.  
“Front door was open.” She said to Erik. “And this one-” She pointed at David “Has been shouting on and off for his daddy for the past hour.”  
“Miss Frost!” Alex said, startled. She gave her pupil a cool glance and said, to David, simply  
“You've been making enough noise to wake the dead, sweetie.” David shrugged, his face pale and miserable. “I could always hear Daddy. Now I can't.”  
“I'm aware. We're all aware.” Emma said with a faint grimace and no small amount of sympathy. She turned to look at Erik. “

I'm also aware there's been no talk of roadblocks?” She raised a querying eyebrow.  
“I said he should talk to the police about Jason-” Erik said, distracted “but Charles was worried, especially after the Strykers- he didn't think they'd believe him.” Alex blinked. Scott and Jean put their arms more tightly around David at the flash of panic he sent on hearing the name. Emma's face tightened further in disapproval, or concern, or possibly in reaction to daylight- Erik wasn't sure.  
“Well, this Jason creature- you're sure he won't have talked Charles into anything?” Emma said. Erik shook his head as David shouted “No! Never, he'd never!” angrily.  
“Mr Charles is nice.” Jean said, politely but firmly to her fellow telepath. “He'd have left a note.”

“We-ell, I think a mind like that, I would have noticed, going past me.” Emma said, thoughtfully.   
“Don't you have shielding in your house like we do?” David said, curiously.   
“No, honey. I like being able to tell who's outside.” Emma said, gently. She looked up at Erik, across David's head.  
“I don't think he'd have gone straight for the city; too many people to notice someone being kidnapped. Too many other minds Charles could reach, if he got lucky for just one second-” Erik opened his mouth. And if he's going to kill Charles, he'll want somewhere quiet to do it and somewhere he can dispose of the body. Like a forest she said, silently, to Erik and Alex. Erik closed his mouth.

“Right, so worth looking for strange vehicles along Downe road?” Alex said hopefully.  
“Betty Kage lives along there- she has security cameras trained everywhere.” Erik said. “I put them up for her.”  
“And she got me to check 'em the other day.” Alex said. “She says she trusts me.” _And she likes looking at your fine behind_ Emma added. Alex let out a startled squawk.

“Right, then. That's our first plan of action.” Erik said. “What about our second?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Action! Jason! Drugs! Telepathy! Erik!

Charles was dimly aware that the world had stopped moving. That meant… He tried to think. Everything was still so foggy. A door slammed, with an echoing, metallic noise. Metal… door- the car must have stopped moving. Footsteps crunched over rough ground and Charles shivered again as they drew near. Charles couldn’t think properly, only feel. He swallowed, fighting nausea. No one, other than Jason, was around- the world held that ringing silence of a place empty of human minds and hearts, rather than the muffled soundlessness suppressant drugs brought with them. What had Jason _done_ to him? He flashed back to the needle marks in his arm.

Jason. Charles fought back a wave of terror. He was not going to freeze up again. Even without his telepathy, Charles was not going to be Jason’s punching bag and servant again. He was not. Charles swallowed, trying to summon up his will and courage. It was hard. All the old fears, of pain, of being maimed or killed, were back.

“Hey, babe. We’re here.” Jason said, softly. Charles squinted up at him, blearily. Jason repressed an indulgent smile, and put out a hand to stroke Charles’s face. Charles looked so cute like this, curled up and sleepy and so very much his, again, wearing his bindings. Jason felt he had to touch him. Charles jerked his head away from Jason’s hand. Jason frowned. Shouldn’t the drugs the doc had given him be kicking in by now? Maybe Charles needed more medicine.

“Don’t be like that, hon.” Maybe Charles was cranky, after the long drive. Charles’ sleepy blue eyes widened and fixed on him with a distinctly unloving stare.  
“Go to hell.” he said, distinctly. Instantly, Jason slapped him. Not too hard, but hard enough to knock Charles’ head back against the floor of the van. Jason frowned, and reached into the van, fumbling with the ropes that tied Charles to the sidebars. He’d done that to stop Charles getting hurt, and how was he repaid? Charles had forgotten how to behave properly.

“You’ve forgotten your manners, sweetheart.” Jason crooned, ignoring Charles’s drug-slowed struggling as he manhandled him to the door of the van. Charles spat, and tried to head butt him. Jason dodged. “Don’t worry.” He breathed into Charles’ ear. “I still know how to teach you.” He licked his lips, allowing memories of Charles’ previous lessons to surface. This close to him, Charles could probably pick up on a few. Charles shuddered, but did not cease struggling as he was lifted over the threshold of the van door. He knew that giving in once might mean giving in forever. He rolled his head, trying to see where there where. All he could see around him was trees. Trees, trees and more trees. Jason must have followed some logging trail off the road at some point. 

Charles realised he had absolutely no idea of where they were. He was alone, drugged, tied up and lost in the wilderness, alone with an abusive madman. And Jason was mad; Charles could almost sense it rolling off him in greasy, feverish waves. When Charles had been with him before, he had never been this openly controlling, this openly crazy before. What had happened to him? A lucky blow from Charles’ elbow dug into Jason’s gut, and the kidnapper wheezed, painfully. He dropped Charles to the ground, and went to the front of the car, muttering. Charles tried to roll over, and knowing that standing was not going to be possible, he began to wriggle and tried to crawl. 

As Charles struggled, he breathed a silent prayer of thanks that Jason had not been able to take anyone else Charles cared about, like David… or Erik. Even if he didn’t know where he was going, Charles knew where he didn’t want to be; which was within a thousand miles of his crazed ex. That went double for his loved ones.

Jason couldn’t understand it. What had happened to his loving, gentle Charles of old? The one with the big blue eyes almost always fixed on his boyfriend, the one who always did what Jason wanted and flinched just right? Angrily, he reached for the case with the drugs in. Maybe a double dose would bring Charles around. Jason wiped his hands with the disinfectant cloths, and fitted the needle to the syringe. He injected the little glass bottle of power with the sterile saline, as per his instructions, and waited the five minutes he was supposed to before filling the syringe full of the stuff that was supposed to make Charles remember who he belonged to.

A grating, rattling sound made him turn his head. The sight that met his eyes made Jason want to smile. Charles was trying to crawl away, over the rough ground, despite his bonds and dazed, drug addled sense of direction. Not that Charles had ever had a good sense of direction, not unless there were people around. Jason chuckled.   
Sometimes, Charles’ stubbornness was just so endearing. He strolled over to Charles, who had managed to progress just a few feet, and rolled him over to get at his elbow again. 

“What… what are you doing, Jason?” Charles said, frantically. Jason frowned. Charles _knew_ he didn’t like questions. Carefully, he tightened his grip on Charles’ arm, and tapped the vein, before sliding the needle in.  
“It’s just something to make you better, babe.” He soothed as he bent over the agitated man. Charles stiffened, fighting against Jason and the effect of the drug simultaneously. It was not for long. Jason watched Charles slowly relax, despite himself. His cheeks flushed and he became limp, slumping down deliciously in Jason’s grasp.  
“I… I’m not sick.” Charles mumbled, eyes drooping. 

“No, I know, hon. This’ll make you better. So you remember you love me.” Jason said, earnestly, running his hand through Charles’ hair. Jason looked at the sky, thinking rapidly. They would need shelter- this was obviously going to take longer than he’d hoped.  
“I’m gonna put up the tent now. Are you going to be good, or do I have to tie you to a tree?”   
Charles mumbled something incoherent, but defiant. Jason sighed. He hoped the medicine started working soon. Maybe he’d better re read the scrawled instructions. He knew all about needles and dosage, but Jason wasn’t sure if the Doc had meant for him to use the drugs differently- maybe he was supposed to show Charles what withdrawal felt like?

Jason tied Charles to a handy tree, running a loop of rope through Charles’s tied together arms and his legs before wrapping it round the tree trunk and knotting it, out of Charles’ reach. Then he set about putting the tent up, around the tree stump he’d earlier marked as Charles’ tether, and setting up camp. Jason didn’t intend for them to stay long. Just until the drugs took effect and Charles had re learnt his love and his place at Jason’s side. Charles was still trying to glare at him as Jason dropped the bedrolls into the tent, and starting thinking about supper.

“Are you hungry, babe?” he said, hopefully. Charles sighed, and rolled his head, so he wouldn’t have to see Jason.   
That made him angry. Jason didn’t like being ignored by Charles.  
“Hey!” You _look_ at me when I'm speaking, you got that?” He snapped. A shudder ran through Charles’ frame, as Jason stalked towards him. Angrily, Jason snapped handcuffs onto Charles’ bruised wrists, and began to untangle him from the ropes. He left a length hobbling his ankles, and force marched him to the tent door.

Jason shoved Charles to the ground, next to the tree stump Charles thinned his lips and said nothing.   
“Why do you always have to be so difficult?” Jason said, fretfully. Charles struggled up to his knees and glared at him. “I love you so much.” Jason said wistfully, as he sat next to him.  
“No you don’t.” Charles said, hoarsely. “And in any case, _I_ don’t love you, Jason. Not anymore.”  
“You’re just saying that, love.” Grotesquely, Jason tried to smile reassuringly. “It’s alright. I know you’re afraid of your feelings. That’s why we’re on this camping trip.” He patted Charles’s hand. 

The handcuffs clinked as Charles shifted away from Jason. Charles swallowed. His head was pounding now; and he rather thought his temperature was spiking. Whatever Jason had made him take, it was certainly no drug Charles had ever taken before. Jason’s denial and false claims of love were infuriating. Charles felt determined to tell Jason exactly what he was doing to him, and how he felt about it.  
“Jason.” Charles said, slow and clear; “You electrocuted me, drugged me and kidnapped me. What precise part of that sounds _loving_ to you?”

Charles felt almost dizzy with the force of the emotions pulsing through him; fear, rage, desperation. He spat, bitterly. A strange taste was filling his mouth. Jason swayed, surprised by the sudden attack.  
“I’m just helping you, helping you admit-“ Jason started, feebly, to defend himself. Charles interrupted him  
“Admit what? Jason, listen to me. I DON’T LOVE YOU. You never loved me, only what I did for you.”  
“Honey-“ Jason said, helplessly, but Charles ploughed straight over him

“For years, you used me, hurt me, shared me with your friends- remember that, Jason?” Jason nodded, dumbly. Charles felt as if he was on fire, both emotionally and bodily. Charles doubted that he was going to survive Jason’s attentions and drugs, now. He was determined, that, at least once in his life, Jason would know precisely what Charles thought of him.  
“You tried to make me abandon _my child_. You beat me until I couldn’t resist and then you forced me into an overdose that nearly killed me and permanently ruined my telepathy-“  
“It was for your own good!” Jason cried hopelessly.

“Excuse me, crippling my mind was something you decided I had to be beaten into doing _for my own good_?” Charles snarled.   
Jason staggered upright. Charles hated him. _Hated him._ It hurt.  
“I- you’re not well. I gotta go get- there’s stuff that will calm you down.” Jason gabbled, as he fled the tent. Jason felt panicky being so close to this savage copy of Charles, all of a sudden. Sleep. He’d make Charles sleep and when he woke up, things would be better.

Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What on earth was happening to him? He felt awash with hatred and rage, to the point of nausea. He was sweating, freely, in the chill forest air. His head ached. The bones of his skull seemed to pulse, expanding and contracting in a manner that was exquisitely painful. Charles wanted peace, calmness, safety, stability, and love. He wanted to know David and Erik and everyone were safe, and Jason was far away. 

Thinking of Erik seemed to bring him closer. Charles could almost swear he could feel Erik, out there somewhere, his determined emotions ringing like a steel bell within his protectively spiky and beautiful mind. –Erik!- He called the name soundlessly, but there was no response. Of course. Erik wasn’t here. Jason lurched back into the tent, clutching a medical case. Charles tensed.  
“No. No more drugs” he said, aloud. Jason shook his head as if the words had been a blow. He gritted his teeth, and fumbled out the sedative and needle with shaking and clumsy hands. Charles’ head was hurting- Jason could tell.

“Charles- you gotta- you gotta-“ Jason said, franticly.   
“Get _AWAY_ from me!” Charles howled, as the needle approached. He scrambled as far away from Jason as his ropes and the tree stump allowed. Jason reeled as if he’d been slapped, and dropped the needle. He slipped, falling full length. Charles glared at him. He imagined bludgeoning Jason with all the feelings he had inflicted on Charles; the fear and pan, the hate and the helplessness. Jason let out a garbled cry, and spasmed violently, jack knifing in the tent doorway. The tent shook violently. Jason jerked himself outside the tent, and seemed to fall again, judging by the sounds Charles could detect He didn’t come back in. 

Charles swallowed again, aching and dizzy. There was a warm, wet trickle on his face. As Charles squinted down, he could see blots of bright colour appearing. Oh. His nose was bleeding. What was happening? He forced down a scream. His head was dissolving. There was no skull, no brain, to hide and hold his mind anymore. Outside, something metallic clanged, as if hit very hard, unless that was Charles’s mind again. Everything was exposed, and the wind was picking up. Charles’ thoughts, his feelings- they were tearing away in great streamers, like windblown clouds. He was distantly aware he should be terrified. 

But fear had blown away first, and now hope was shredding away from him, along with memory and sanity. All that was left was pain and confusion. The tent entry darkened as someone began to force their way in.  
Charles opened his mouth to breathe, and heard himself screaming, shrill and agonised.  
He was slipping, scrabbling in the dirt to hold onto shreds of himself. There was so much pain, so much wrong. He was dissolving.  
“Charles, it’s me. Erik.” He heard the noises but could no longer make any sense of them.

_-Charles!- ___

__What was that? He must be hallucinating._ _

__A calm point had entered Charles’ whirlwind. It- he- felt solid and reassuring. Not Jason, no. Charles stretched his hands out, reaching for this welcoming stability, eagerly. Magically, Charles felt his hands freed from their cuffs as he did so. He leant forwards as far as his ropes would allow._ _

___\- I’m here.-_ _ _

__Charles was seized in a warm embrace, body and mind together. There was a distant far off shaking; that could have been him; or whoever was holding him. Their grip was strong and sure, but it was comforting, not constraining. Nothing about it hurt or sought to dominate._ _

__Dimly, Charles was aware of something tugging at him, urging him onwards. Desperately, the remnants of Charles’ mind fell towards this other, and found no barriers, no rejection, only a spiky, armoured protectiveness that stood aside willingly, welcoming his thoughts and feelings in and then shielding him once he was safely held.  
Like iron filings in a magnetic field, Charles found his thoughts and feelings, his memories begin to align themselves in a coherent, orderly fashion, at first in his holders’ pattern and then, as that person did nothing more but welcome him, in Charles’s own. Slowly, Charles felt his frgamented _self_ begin to stabilise._ _

__He breathed; in, out, in, out. The man holding him breathed in a similar pattern, waiting, patiently, for Charles to re-gather himself. His embrace was warm and firm and very familiar._ _

__“Hello, Erik.” Charles said._ _


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's POV of Project: Rescue Charles

Alex had _no_ idea what he was doing here. Stuck in the backseat of his own car, which was being driven at breakneck speed along a bare strip of ground that only just qualified as a logging trail. Erik was doing an excellent imitation of an android, driving mechanically and saying nothing. Alex thought he looked like hell.   
Erik’s partner in rescuing, sat in the shotgun seat, on the other hand, looked like she had never even heard of wrinkles, either for her face or her clothes. Emma Frost’s icy perfection had not changed by a flicker, even when they’d identified the van and lit out after Jason and Charles.

Well, Alex knew what he was supposed to be here for; David’s Dad’s crazy ex had snatched him, and David was freaking out back home with Scott and Jean and Mrs Grey looking after him. That meant Erik needed backup; and apparently Miz Frost had refused to be with Erik by herself. Alex didn’t blame her. Erik in Protect Mode was a little… alarming to encounter, if you didn’t know him well enough to have seen it before. Erik wasn’t violently angry. He wasn’t cursing or kicking things, or yelling. He didn’t even clench his fists much.

No, Erik was being quiet. He was staying calm, constructive and thoughtful. And yet, underneath that iron control, Alex knew, lurked hints of the raging forces of destruction coiled patiently inside his foster father, waiting to be unleashed just as soon as Erik located a target. If that target was human… Well, Alex had plenty of ideas about how to dispose of dead bodies. He just hoped his own wouldn’t be one of them.

“You’re jumpy for the wrong reasons, sugar.” Miz Frost said, aloud.  
“What?” said Alex, defensively. His school principle smiled a thoroughly un academic smile.  
“When we catch up with them. You don’t want to worry about Erik.” She elaborated, calmly. “Keep going straight on.” Erik nodded curtly.

“I think I gotta!” Alex snapped. “He’s worried about Ch- Mr Charles! I can worry about him.” _And what he’s gonna do if-_ Alex didn’t complete the thought.  
“Sugar.” She said, a little more watchfully. “You need your head clear, if you’re going to be useful.” He nodded, reluctantly. “And Erik won’t do anything illegal. He’d risk losing you two.” Alex looked sceptical. Emma tapped the side of her head, meaningfully. His eyes widened.

“Charles is my employee.” She said, simply. “That’s my job.” Alex gulped.

 

Erik did not pay any attention to either of them. He kept his hands on the wheel and his focus on the rough track Emma had insisted was the right one. He strained ahead, seeking for metal on the move. He also used himself to make sure the car- Alex’s- kept functioning in spite of the extremely difficult road under its wheels.Emma groaned, and lifted one hand to her immaculate temple. Erik flicked her a considering glance. Alex’s head hurt.  
“What is _that?_ ” Emma muttered. She frowned, delicately, and closed her eyes. The hand rose from her temple, and began groping in midair in front of her face.

“What’s going on?”  
“Not sure. Some kind of psychic disturbance.” Emma said shortly. “I’ll put shields up.” She continued. Alex’s head stopped hurting, and even the frown between Erik’s brows smoothed out a little. Suddenly, Emma snapped “ERIK! Stop the car _NOW!_  
”  
Erik stamped on the brakes.

Alex was gasping for breath as he scrambled up the slope towards the mystery van. He couldn’t spot either Erik or Emma about, but he knew they were there. Erik had decreed they approach the car he’d sensed on foot and separately, because the dude had clearly never watched any horror movies, like, ever. He couldn’t see anyone about, but Emma had assured them both that Charles and his kidnapper were definitely around here somewhere, before slamming up further shields on all of them. That was all she was able to do- too much static in the mental atmosphere, or something.

The psychic disturbance had got worse; it felt, Emma had said, a little like an emergent telepath’s distress, but it was far too powerful for that. Alex stumbled and bit back a curse. What had this bastard done to Erik’s Charles? And how could they help him if they couldn’t find him? Alex wasn’t stupid; he put telepathic weirdness together with the fact that Charles was a telepath who’d been kidnapped and he came up with four. Something was wrong with Charles’s head, maybe. Not surprising, what with the being kidnapped, and all. He just hoped they’d find a way to make sure no one else got their brain scrambled.

The tent- a pretentious, silvery grey capsule- begun to shake, violently. 

Alex began to hurry. Behind and to the right of him he could hear Emma’s footsteps as she picked up the pace, too. Erik spat out a guttural sound that Alex hoped was a swearword and not a sign that he’s gone even more feral.

Charles screamed, then, yelling, from the tent.  
“Get AWAY from me!” Despite himself, Alex shivered. Charles sounded nothing like the kindly, patient man Alex knew. He sounded… wild. Terrified. Crazy. Erik made a choked-off noise and plunged towards the tent.  
Erik brushed past the staggering stranger that Alex thinks might be Jason, and hurled himself into the tent. Alex felt Emma come up beside him. The dishevelled stranger stared at them both, blankly.  
“I… We’re camping!” he said, defensively. Alex tried not to gape.

“Sure you are, honey.” Emma said, icily, as she advanced.   
“We are!” he insisted, eyes wild. “This is just… It’s a rough spot, we’ve survived worse…” He trailed off, staring vaguely. Alex felt every hair on the back of his neck stand straight up as Probable Jason began to smile. “It’s a reunion.”   
“Is the guy in the tent Charles Xavier?” Alex said, brusquely. Emma frowned at him. Alex ignored her. “Cause if he is-“ He got no further. Probably Jason swung to face him, and said, sharply.  
“How do you know that name? What’s he to you?” Slowly, he began to back towards the van.

Alex followed him. So did Emma.  
“You don’t understand” Jason whined, as if in response to something they had not said. “I need him. You can’t have Charles. I _need_ him.” Alex’s skin crawled at the tone in his voice, half spoilt little brat, half self righteous entitlement. Alex felt a wave of hatred for the guy swamp him, and blinked. Emma raised an eyebrow.  
Inside the tent, Erik said something, urgently. Jason’s head came up like a hunting dog’s, and he stepped away from the van before resuming his approach to it.

“Stop. Right. There. Honey.” Emma said; sweet and deadly venom in every syllable.  
“No, no!” the guy snapped. “You, you aren’t his type at all. He’s mine. Charles is mine!”   
Inside the tent, Charles screamed, high and desperate, and Alex saw red.  
“Charles belongs to _himself,_ asshole!” he said, and fired off a concussive blast. Emma physically shoved him as he did, and the blast, which would hopefully have taken Jason’s crazy abusive head off, totalled his van instead.

The dude just stood there, slack jawed. Alex felt dizzy.   
“That was a _rental!_ ” he wailed, and Alex began to laugh, jerkily. Everything seemed to be completely crazy. Emma gave a wry smile.  
“Alex, stand down.” She said, gently, and reinforced her words with a slight telepathic push.  
Alex blinked. Jason sat down, heavily, on the floor, and began to cry, messily. Alex stepped backwards, away from the shattered van and crazy dude. Emma prowled up to Jason, and took his head in her lily white, elegant hands.  
“Charles…” whined the dude, sadly.

“Oh, you’re done talking about Charles, now, honey.” Emma assured him. “Completely _done._ ” Alex shivered, and swivelled away, hoping he could somehow avoid being aware of Emma at work. Jason yelped, almost pitifully. Alex clapped his hands over his ears.  
“Let’s talk about you. Sugar.” Emma purred. By the time he looked back, it was done. Jason was stretched out on the ground, quietly, if not peacefully unconscious. He was twitching, slowly. Alex felt a bit like twitching himself. Emma shook herself, and came back from wherever she’d gone, inside Jason’s head.  
“Emma?” Alex said, slowly. She gave him a deeply satisfied smile.

“Yes?” Alex had no idea what he had intended to say next; so he swung round, and headed for the tent. He dropped to his knees and called out  
“It’s Alex!” before trying to crawl in, closer to the safer telepath and Erik. He didn’t want to get himself perforated.  
Erik was half kneeling, half sitting, with Charles folded into his arms. Charles was grey and pale, sprawled awkwardly half on Erik’s lap and half on a mess of shredded ropes, but he was smiling.  
“Hello, Alex.” He said, almost cheerfully. “Thank you for coming to rescue me.”  
“No problem.” Alex said.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles wakes up. 
> 
>  
> 
> Really very fluffy.

Charles drifted back into awareness very slowly. His mind rose from the depths of sleep like a bubble meandering through honey. He was too relaxed and cosy to think of moving; which told Charles he was no longer in the tent. The bed was warm, and lump-free. He was _safe._ He was protected, something assured him.

Charles could hear voices. Someone above him was grumbling that his television didn’t work, and they couldn’t sleep. Someone was eager to see her new baby’s siblings. Someone else was trying to take a pulse and a nearby doctor was wondering about side effects of certain drugs. Doctor? Drugs? He must be in hospital. He didn’t have the numb, heavy feeling that painkillers brought with them, and he didn’t feel sick, or broken anywhere. Charles wondered what was supposed to be wrong with him. Apart from a vague sense of discomfort in one arm, he felt so comfortable and pain free there couldn’t be much damage. How nice. 

Someone warm and spiky was holding his hand. Intrigued, Charles opened his eyes to the steady beeping of his heart monitor. Charles was surprised to note that apparently he rated a single private room. He hadn’t thought that a teacher’s medical insurance would cover that; Emma must have a secretly indulgent streak in her, somewhere. Cautiously, Charles considered stretching. He turned his head and met Erik’s eyes. Well, Erik’s face. Erik was sitting in the visitor’s chair by his bed. He was asleep, bent almost double, with his face resting next to Charles’ ear on the pillow. Both his hands were wrapped around one of Charles’.

Erik’s sleeping mind was allowing Charles to curl around it just as tightly as his grip was clasped on Charles’ hands. Charles blinked. Erik’s mind, a sinuously lovely, ferocious thing, was laid completely open to his perception. Charles could _hear/see_ Erik as clearly as he could David’s. Charles’ hands began to tremble and his breathing sped up. He could perceive Erik’s thoughts. He could hear the thoughts of half the hospital. Easily. The bleeping from the heart monitor began to sound louder. Charles caught the sleepy stir in Erik’s mind and the sharpness of it, in his own senses, made him gasp aloud.

Erik’s eyes shot open. He jerked upright in his chair. Charles let out a slight groan of protest as he was jostled by the sudden movement. Erik bent towards him, green grey eyes wide and hopeful.  
“Charles?” Erik breathed, quietly. “Are you… Charles, are you awake?” Distracted, Charles gazed at him.

 _-Yes. Where’s David?-_ He didn’t dare ask about Jason.

Erik twitched again, and licked his lips before responding “David is at your house. Mrs Grey and her daughter are there, and so is Scott. They’re safe. So are you- Jason is in custody.”  
 _-Oh. Thank you, my friend-_ Charles realised his mouth had not moved. He’d instinctive responded to Erik with his mental voice. Odd. He hadn’t done that for a long time. Charles opened his mouth and tried the speaking aloud thing he knew most people preferred. It was harder than he expected.  
“Erik?”

Ow. That had hurt. His mouth and throat were dry as dust. Charles coughed, trying to clear his throat, and then wished he hadn’t. That had hurt. Erik grumbled under his breath at something or other, and disappeared from Charles’ line of sight- but not his telepathy- for a moment. Charles heard a clatter and wondered what his friend was doing. His mind was a strange combination of _relief/joy/anger,_ and Charles felt too tired to try and understand it further.  
“Here, Charles. Try an ice chip.” Erik proffered a spoon when he returned. Obediently, Charles opened his mouth, and let the ice melt on his tongue before letting the moisture slide down to irrigate his poor dry throat. The relief from discomfort was wonderful.

_-Thanks-_

Charles flushed then. He had lapsed again. How rude.  
“Charles you’ve just woken up in hospital. I can cut you a small amount of slack.” Erik said, laughing a little. Charles smiled, in relief. As long as Erik didn’t mind, it as ok.  
“You came for me.” he managed to croak out. Erik frowned, and offered him more ice. Charles accepted it gratefully. He was very thirsty.

“Of course. David called for me as soon as he couldn’t hear your link.” Erik sounded very matter of fact. The words keyed another memory in Charles, and he flung a frantic mental query into the aether. Charles received a vague mumble from David’s sleeping mind, before sagging down in his hospital bed, relieved. His link with his son was back. David was fine; asleep and comfortable. His son’s sleep was untroubled, and there was at least one mind wakeful in the house, standing guard.

“Thank you.” He managed to get out, before Erik frowned, and stuck the icy spoon back in Charles’ mouth.  
“Don’t talk so much, Charles. I can hear how dry your throat is.” Erik said, reaching for more ice. Charles snorted.  
Wait. He could detect minds near his son, who was in the house? Charles himself was in the hospital. David was so far away, he shouldn’t have had so little trouble reaching him. Charles was reminded of how clear and sharp Erik’s mind had come through as he was waking. 

Almost shyly, he sent out a mental probe. He was mildly surprised to be abe to hear her respond almost instantly.  
 _-Yes?-_ The reply came back, swift and crisp as, well as a touch of frost. Too late, Charles looked at the darkened window, the shadows under Erik’s eyes, and realised how late it must be. Oops.

 _-Emma, I’m sorry, did I wake-  
-CHARLES?-_ Emma’s mind tone was one of amused astonishment. _-Why are you awake at this time of night, sugar?-_  
 _-Just woke up. Emma…- he said, a little plaintively. -I can…_ Hear/see/send _again-  
I am aware of that, Charles._ Now. _Good for you!_ Emma’s mental voice was clear and dry, and amused.

 _How?_  
I don’t know, what does Erik say? Emma said, patiently. There was a pause.  
 _Erik?_ They both said simultaneously.   
_!?!_ Erik jumped and sputtered at the unexpected dual mental contact. He broadcast bewildered pleasure in Charles’ recovering health at both telepaths. Charles flung a request for clarification at him. Erik replied with a memory.

_“He just said ‘Thank you’ to Alex, and then he passed out!” Erik says, repressing his desire to choke answers out of the white coated man in front of him.  
“Yes…” the doctor says, vaguely, studying his inscrutable charts. “I see.” Did he complain of a headache? Fever, aches, and pains?”_

_“His nose was bleeding.” Erik says. “What happened? What did that bastard do?”  
We’ll, ah, have to run some tests, get the blood work done.” The doctor bleats. “But it looks like… he drugged him? With more than a sedative.”  
“After tasering him and tying him up, yes”. Erik grits out._

__The two telepathic observers are mildly astonished at the depths of Erik’s protective rage, and at the amount of self control he has.

“Well, it wasn’t just a sedative. I don’t know what it was, but it’s likely that… hmm.” He scribbles a note. Erik’s hands curl into fists. The doctor notices out of the corner of his eye, and his speech hurries just a little. “Likely that whatever he gave him had an unexpected effect on his telepathy. Some street drugs do.” There’s a pause, and then the little man continues   
"Between the strong emotions caused by the kidnap, and these drugs, It’s a good thing they were so far away from the road; camping like that The psychic shock could have harmed a lot of nearby people.” The doctor squints at Charles’s limp form. “But your friend seems quite strong, and his readings are stable.” 

He darts Erik a quick smile. Erik returns one of his own. The doctor pales, slightly.  
“I don’t know how much it’s amplified your friends’ telepathy; but it might be a permanent effect. We won’t know until he wakes.” He’s already walking backwards out of the room. Erik lets him go. He draws up a chair and takes Charles’s hands in his.  
“I won’t leave you to wake alone, my friend.” Erik says to the silent figure on the bed. 

The memory ends, but not before Emma detects that Erik kissed Charles on the forehead at that point. In both their heads, Emma laughed at them, mostly gently.

_-Goodnight, boys-_

And she was gone, barriers of her own pointedly flung up as she left.

Erik’s eyes widened. He looked anxious, unsure of himself. Charles couldn’t bear it.  
 _-Oh-._ Charles said. _“Oh my friend_.” He struggled to sit up, until Erik, snorting in irritation, pushed him down onto the bed.  
“Enough talking, lie _flat_ , damn it Charles…” He trailed off into grumbling. Charles lay down, touched by the mechanic’s open concern and caring.

“Has it?” Erik said, abruptly. He felt hopeful, in a way Charles couldn’t quite grasp immediately. He felt sleepy.  
“What?” Charles yawned. His eyes closed and then snapped open again.  
“Has that… drug, whatever it was, amplified your telepathy?” Erik said, patiently.  
“I... I’m not sure _what_ it’s done to me. Not really.”. Charles admitted, cautiously. “But before… I couldn’t have reached Emma, or David, or even the others in the hospital. Not since the overdose.”

“I suppose we can find out in the morning.” Erik said. Charles winced, inwardly, at the thought of Erik leaving. He forced himself to put on a brave face.   
“Yes. And you probably need to go home, catch up on your sleep.” Erik chuckled, low and gruff.  
“Go back to sleep, Charles.” he murmured. “I’m not leaving you.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three epilogues.

“And you want to visit the prisoner again, why, ma’am?” The guards’ voice is as bored as the rest of him. He scarcely looks up from his little bank of TV screens.  
“I just… I need closure. I was so… unnerved by it all.” Emma says, sweetly. The guard’s puzzled features provide evidence he’s not that familiar with the concept. Inwardly, Emma sighs.

“You get what I mean, honey? Closure?” She keeps the bright and stupid smile on her lips as the guard waves her though and gives her a pat down. His hands don’t wander, so she won’t make him think he’s impotent this month.  
She walks through the jail without turning a hair. Few inmates notice her, and of the ones that do, most pretend they haven’t. One is stupid enough to wolf whistle at her; briefly, before he loses the power to control his tongue for an hour. The nearby guard learns all he needs to about the prisoner’s stash.

Jason is lucky. He’s in solitary; apparently the rest of the inmates are a threat to him. Emma’s guard companion walks her into the room where he’s sitting, hands chained to the desk, and ignores all his shouts to go back to his cell, to close the door behind them. Emma smiles at Jason, a very different one to the smile she used on the guard. Emma’s expression doesn’t change a bit as she walks to the chair opposite his, and sits, daintly, on the edge of the seat. She doesn’t speak aloud, merely resting her hands on the desk, and steepling her fingers. Jason shouts, angrily, at her.

Five minutes later, he’s still shouting, but he’s calling for help, for the guard.

The guard doesn’t come.

Five minutes after that, Jason is still shouting, but he isn’t using words.

Eventually, there is silence, and when there is, Emma stands, pats the head of the man gazing dully at the table, and raps on the door for exit.

She smiles to herself as she leaves. It’s not like she killed the man; or even broke him, very much. She wanted to leave him screaming for the rest of his life, but that would have been too noticeable. As would a mind wipe or major personality rewrite, however useful or pleasant Emma could make Jason, given a little time. Emma shakes her head as she gets into the car. What she has just done is illegal, and, perhaps, cruel, but she prefers to see it as justice done. She has convinced Jason’s brain that to be in the same room, to be touched by Charles, will cause him pain or death. If Jason so much as thinks of Charles Xavier, he will have a panic attack.

Charles will be safe from further attacks this way. Emma doubts Charles will want to be in Jason’s presence, so, apart from the trial, if there is one, it won’t count as torture. Not really. Also, Jason will not be able to enjoy his many memories of hurting Charles, ever again. Emma regards that as being no worse than burning someone’s photographs. 

All the same, Emma thinks, she will delay telling Charles about this until he’s out of the hospital. 

She might tell Erik, though. 

\------------------------

“Erik. I haven’t actually lost the use of my limbs, you know.” Charles said, half laughing.  
“I don’t care. Stay in the wheelchair or I will _keep_ you there.” Erik growled as he carefully manoeuvred the bulky hospital issue device through the next set of doors.  
“Really? How?” Charles voice dripped with incredulity. Erik muttered under his breath. Charles laughed. He had a brief mental image of Erik… Erik binding him to the chair with metal, but it stopped being funny too soon. Charles snatched a quick breath, hoping no one would notice his sudden tension. Damn Jason. He shivered, and then forced himself to stop, smiling brightly. 

David cocked his head at his father, curiously.

“I… I will _sit_ on you, and _kiss_ you until your knees weaken.” Erik hissed. His voice, low and deadly, made “Kiss” sound like a method of interrogation. He raised his voice “And make Alex push the chair.” Beside him, Alex groaned in horror. He liked both the dudes, and he had no problem with duded kissing other duded, but his foster dad should never suck face with anyone ever, or at least not in public.  
“Please, please, please, Professor, stay in the wheelchair. I don’t have any eye-bleach.” He begged. Charles repressed his evil chuckle, fairly valiantly.

“Why does kissing bad for your knees?” David asked, almost innocently. He smiled at Alex. Scott brightened. He knew the answer to this one!  
“Depends on who’s doing it, Jean says.” He said, hanging on to the arm of the wheelchair.  
“And how, pray tell, does Miss Grey know this?” Charles asked Scott, distracted again. David awarded himself a point in the Keeping Daddy Happy game..  
“She says Millsand Boon said so. And she talks to her sister.” Scott said. “Her sister’s _old._ ” He shook his head, puzzled.  
“How come fifteen is old?” Alex wondered, mildly. Erik forbore to comment.  
“Daddy, who is Millsand Boon?” David said.

“Ask Erik.” Charles said, smartly. “He’s pushing the chair, he knows things.” Two wide eyed gazes transfixed Erik in innocent query. Alex smirked, and resolved to tell no one about the stash of romance novels he and Hank did not read together for a laugh. Erik spared a moment to wonder how, exactly, this conversation had escaped him.  
He pushed the wheelchair along, using his metal control to force it to run smoothly and silently. Charles flashed him a quick burst of thanks.  
“Mills and Boon is a publisher of books.” Erik said, eventually.  
“Kissing books? _Ugh_.” Scott said. His wrinkled nose showed what he thought of that. Charles gave in to his giggles. Scott looked a little hurt, but he brightened up as the front doors of the hospital appeared at the end of the corridor.

“Race you to the car!” he yelled, and bolted… all of three steps, before he found himself rising in the air, lifted by Erik’s powers acting on the metal tabs newly sewn into his clothes.  
“NO running in the hospital, Scott Summers!” Charles said, sternly. “You could run into someone and hurt them.”  
“But I was only gonna run to the car park!” Scott whined. Erik gestured, and the boy floated along behind them, like a very vocal get well soon balloon.

“No running in the car park, either, brat.” Erik said, cheerfully. “A car could try to run into you, and then I’d have to hurt them.”

Scott grinned.

\--------------------

“So, how’s my favourite teacher?” Tante Ruth gave both her boys a cocked eyebrow of interrogation. “Apart from still too thin, of course.” To her (not so) secret delight, Erik actually shuffles his feet. Good man. He knows his duties in the pastry department.  
“I tried, Tante, I really did, but-“  
“The hospital was very strict about my diet, Tante Ruth,” Charles said, smoothly. “They weren’t sure what J-“ His voice falters. “What drugs I’d been forced to take. They brought back my telepathy, you know.”  
Tante Ruth melts immediately, of course, which means Charles’ cunning plan completely worked. He wishes he could pat himself on the back

Charles feels pretty pleased, until he catches sight of Erik, looking stricken and murderous at the mention of Charles’s ordeal. Charles refuses to flinch from Erik, but his regret washes out the positive emotions he’s being trying so hard to broadcast. Tante Ruth looked at both of them, and then she flung up her hands, suddenly, urging them to sit, have a drink, enjoy a moment without the kids, in a stream of cheerful comments no one has to respond to.

 _“Liebling._ ” Tante Ruth said, after they’ve sat. “You know you are safe here, don’t you?” Erik nodded at that, fiercely.  
“I know.” Charles said, quietly. He looked at Erik. “Do you?”  
“Know you’re safe?” Erik temporised. “Yes.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I just… I want to _kill him_ , he hurt you and…”

“I don’t exactly like him myself.” Tante Ruth said, pouring coffee, and slicing the cakes that have appeared from nowhere. Charles sighs. He tries the sacher torte. It’s very good.  
“I just… Look, I survived, we all did, right?” The others nod. “So… It happened to me, and so I think that means I get to say when it’s over. Can’t it be _over_?” The last sentence sounded whinier than Charles had expected. Erik flinched, minutely.  
“Is the trial going to be so hard for you, lovely?” Tante Ruth frowned. Charles gave her an unhappy shrug.  
“If there even is one. He has to be mentally competent, and… that might be uncertain.”

“Good.” Erik said, savagely. Tante Ruth stared at him. Charles ate more cake.  
“Erik… It might have been my fault. My telepathy, coming back-“  
“No.” Erik said, firmly. Tante Ruth put her hand on Charles’ arm  
“ _Nonsense_ , lovely.” She said, maternally. “He shocked you, he dragged you into the woods and he drugged you.” Erik nodded again. “He did it to himself.”

Erik agreed with his aunt so strongly, Charles started to feel it himself. He brightened a little.  
“You’re not afraid of…” He twiddled his fingers in the air by his temples. “then?”  
“Of course not, _liebling_ ,” Ruth says, almost before his finished the gesture. “Now eat more cake.”

Charles obeys.

It’s good cake. This is a good town. With luck, Charles will have a good life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's done. I hope it was bearable for you all. What a lot of words it was...........


End file.
